


Austerity Gamble

by thisbluespirit



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1940s, Austerity Britain, Community: genprompt_bingo, Community: hc_bingo, Community: rainbowfic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Loss, Grief/Mourning, Mentions of the Blitz, Nightmares, Northumberland, Period Typical attitudes to divorce, Romance, Slow Burn, fetes, mentions of World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28942980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisbluespirit/pseuds/thisbluespirit
Summary: All Edward Iveson needs right now is someone who can type, not a proposal by proxy from a family friend who’s decided he should marry her daughter.  Julia has excellent typing and shorthand and no intention of doing what her mother tells her, so there shouldn’t be a problem, should there?
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15
Collections: Gen Prompt Bingo Round 18, Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 11





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Rainbowfic prompts Snow White #11 (straw into gold) and Ecru #9 (prefer), hc_bingo square "Forced to face past trauma" and genprompt_bingo square "Factories and other industrial spaces."
> 
> (Standalone AU for a rainbowfic canon.)

_Prologue_

John Iveson studied his bookshelves, raising a hand to run along the edges of the spines, lost in the pleasurable indecision of which volume to read next. His wife Elizabeth was elsewhere in the house, busy organising her annual spring clean, despite all the odds of shortages and rationing that were ranged against her. 

A tap on the door made him turn. Elizabeth was standing there with hair out of place and she hadn’t removed her overall, both unusual evidence of distraction. John straightened up and waited for her explanation.

“John,” she said, barely repressed irritation in her tone. “Hanne Graves is here, and she has an absurd proposition – well, _you_ talk to her!”

Hanne slipped in past Elizabeth, holding out her hands to greet John. She smiled at him as he took them and kissed her cheek. She was some years younger than both of them and battling against the times to dress well. Today she was wearing a grey-blue suit that was in a style that predated the war and must be wearing thin at the edges, but the expert cut still told.

“It isn’t an unreasonable suggestion,” Hanne said, as Elizabeth left. “It’s a perfectly sensible one and, if I’d only thought of it before, it would have made everything easier. I can’t see why Elizabeth won’t agree.”

John drew back. “Agree with what, dare I ask?”

“That my Julia should marry your Ned,” said Hanne calmly and then sat down on the chair placed in front of the desk.

John dropped back down into his own chair, pausing to recover breath before managing some kind of response. “Any, ah, particular reason?” 

John wasn’t sure if Julia and Edward had even met as adults for any real length of time. Elizabeth had always been close to Hanne, and John had often had lunch with Harold Graves in the City when he’d been alive, but of the three Graves children, Edward had known Christy best, although they hadn’t exactly been friends. They’d been far too different.

“Julia wants to be married,” said Hanne, “and I think Ned would be so much better than this other man she’s found. I don’t see there’d be any harm in letting them meet each other properly.”

John paused, blinking, whatever had been on the tip of his tongue lost forever. “I beg your pardon? Julia is already engaged to someone else? Isn’t this whole conversation a little late, in that case?”

“You don’t understand,” said Hanne with a small sigh. “Julia is working as a typist – in one of those dreadful pools, you know? But she’s going to marry this Hall person instead. He’s a widower with a daughter and entirely the wrong sort of person for her. So, I told Julia if she wanted to escape her work that way, I could find someone better and thought of Ned nearly at once. I don’t see it’s such a dreadful idea!”

John leant forward. “Hanne,” he said softly. “We can’t stop them from making mistakes. They have the right to do that for themselves. As to engineering a meeting, Ned is in Northumberland at the moment and will be for some months.”

Hanne nodded. “I know. He came to see me a few weeks ago when he was in town. It was after that I thought of it. He isn’t happy, either, I think.”

“Ah,” said John, covering mild hurt that he hadn’t known Edward had been south so recently. He shouldn’t, of course – if it was a flying visit, naturally he might have time to call on Hanne in London, but not to make it across to Kent.

He was saved from having to think of anything further with which to dissuade Hanne by the sound of voices in the hallway. Moments later someone else burst into the room, Elizabeth close behind her. The newcomer had a distinct resemblance to Hanne in her fair colouring, but she was younger, taller, and currently with a far more militant set to her chin.

“Julia,” said John, rising to greet her. He stifled unruly and unwise amusement that no one else in the room would appreciate. Edward might have done, but on the other hand, Hanne’s suggestion might well have touched a sore spot for him. John had not expected such a drama in his study this morning. It was more entertaining than any novel he might have chosen.

Julia Graves stopped in dismay, the determined set of her face fading into confusion as she saw her mother sitting in front of her. “Oh,” she said, and sagged. “I’m too late. Mother, I came to stop you making a fool of us both! Mr Iveson, Mrs Iveson, I’m so sorry. Mother, how could you?”

Hanne stood. “All you needed to do was agree to see Ned.”

“Yes,” said John suddenly, a way out of this impasse striking him. “Of course. Hanne, if you would leave us –? Elizabeth, you’ll look after her, won’t you? I need to talk to Julia – Miss Graves – if you don’t mind.”

Once the study had emptied out, Julia, hanging back by the door, gave him a wary look. “Mr Iveson?”

“I have a solution,” said John. “Or at least, a potential solution. It may not suit you, but your mother said you were working for a typing pool?”

Julia’s cheeks turned pink. “I was,” she said, “but I walked out. I suppose I don’t _have_ to have something any more, but there are a few things I’d rather – well.” She shrugged. “Miss Williams was the outside of enough!”

“Yes, quite,” said John, reaching for his spectacles, and ushering her over towards the desk, and his portable typewriter. “I don’t understand what your Mother is about this time, but I believe we can keep her happy, find you a temporary job, and solve Ned’s current problem, all in one fell swoop and without endangering your engagement, provided you’re willing – and able.”

Julia shot him a bemused look. “Anything that will stop this ridiculous crusade of Mother’s will be fine with me.”

“Staff are hard to come by at the moment,” said John. “Especially with temporary work. Edward is currently up near Newcastle, completing business matters for me, and he could use a secretary. If you’re interested, I’ll put you through your paces now. If not – if it’s too far away, with your fiancé in town – not to worry. I’ll find some other way of dissuading your mother.”

Julia bit her lip, hesitating a few inches from the desk, before giving a shrug and breaking into a laugh. She sat in front of the typewriter and raised her chin. “Oh, you won’t have any complaint. I’m pretty decent, I promise. My one real weakness is cheeking Miss Williams, and I trust I shall be safe from any danger of that in the wilds of the north!”


	2. Chapter One

Edward shifted his hold on the telephone receiver, leaning forward to catch a pile of paper before it toppled off the desk and missed his father’s next words. “What was that, sorry?”

“I said, have you found someone to do the clerical work yet?”

Edward bit back a sigh. “I’m going to call the agency in Newcastle again. I’m sorry, I’ve been a little distracted and it’s not easy to find someone willing to come all the way out here – and stay. Look, may I talk to you about Matthews? We’re still having problems on that front –”

“Of course,” said John on the other end, “but the point is, I’ve found someone. If you’re willing, she can start on Thursday. Julia Graves – you know, Hanne’s daughter.”

Edward frowned, instantly wary of good fortune. “I do need someone who can actually type, you know. If this is a charity case –”

“Ned,” said his father, sounding affronted. “I hope you would know me better than that. She seems a capable young lady. Of course, if you would rather select someone yourself, that is your prerogative. It merely seemed like a good way to kill two birds with one stone – Julia needs some temporary work and you need a clerical assistant. There is what you might call a third bird, but that shouldn’t be of any importance.”

Edward kicked himself. After all, his father could be said to have made his whole business a means of helping people out constructively while also making a profit where he could. Finding someone who could fill in as secretary here who was also a family friend in need of help was typical of him. Of course, whether or not Julia Graves would be willing to stay in a remote Northumberland village only time would tell. Five other temporary clerical workers had not.

“Sorry,” Edward said. “Of course. Thursday. Thank you, Father.”

John, on the other end, relaxed. Edward could hear the smile in his voice. “Good. Now, what is this about Matthews again?”

Edward needed no further prompting, and the subject occupied the rest of the telephone call. It was only after replacing the receiver in its cradle that he realised he’d never asked his father what he meant by that third bird comment.

Still, as long as Julia Graves could type, what did anything else matter?

Edward found out the next afternoon that quite a few other things might matter, and that _of no importance_ was not how he would have described that extra bird, nor did any stone-throwing seem to have killed the wretched thing yet.

He was in the middle of working his way through a pile of paperwork in the office. It was Saturday, but there wasn’t much else to do here in an isolated hamlet on the north east coast, and getting on with the business of clearing out the place seemed preferable to his other options.

“Ned,” said an unexpected voice from the doorway, and he looked up to see Hanne Graves standing there. “A Mr Hanley told me I’d find you here.”

Edward started and dropped his pen, staring at Mrs Graves in complete incomprehension. He could not think of any reason that she should be here, until it finally dawned on him that maybe Julia had arrived early and Hanne had come with her. He rose hastily, once he recovered his wits, and crossed the room to greet her, holding out his hand.

“Mrs Graves,” he said as she took it. “How nice to see you. Are you here with Julia?”

Hanne tilted her head to one side, studying him, before sitting delicately in the chair opposite the desk. “They didn’t tell you, did they?”

“I beg your pardon?” Edward said, before recollecting his manners. “Would you like some tea?”

Hanne placed her hands on her lap. “That would be very nice, thank you. Oh, dear, it’s so hard to know how to explain. I made a muff of it the other day – I’m sure no one took me seriously. But you’ll understand, Ned, I’m sure.”

Edward put the kettle on the small, portable stove & struck a match to light it. Once it had caught, he turned back to face his guest. “I’ll do my best, if you’ll try.”

“I think that you should marry Julia,” said Hanne.

Edward, halfway through taking the battered office tea-cups and saucers out of the cupboard, started violently and nearly dropped them. 

“No, no – don’t say a word,” Mrs Graves continued. “I didn’t mean out of hand – you’ll need to get to know her first, and win her over, but I know you can.”

Edward, who had first been inclined to take offence, now had to turn his head away to hide his amusement. He was touched by Mrs Graves’s faith in his prowess as a lover. He couldn’t imagine anyone else on the planet would share her opinion. Julia, he thought, certainly would not. He remembered her vaguely as a lively and decided young lady who would be unlikely to marry someone because her mother told her to. Who would?

“I doubt Julia will agree.”

Hanne frowned. “I don’t see why she shouldn’t. You must understand that she’s agreed to marry Mr Hall for purely practical reasons, and if she’s going to make a marriage of convenience, you would be a _much_ better choice. You ought to be married again, and I don’t see why you shouldn’t take a liking to Julia if you tried.”

“Mrs Graves! I’m not making up to a girl who’s already engaged,” said Edward as he rescued the whistling kettle from boiling dry. “Even if she weren’t, flattered as I am by your confidence in me, I can’t see me having much luck on that front.”

Hanne waited while he made the tea and then when he brought her cup over, she put her hand to his arm. “Ned. I don’t _like_ Mr Hall. I wouldn’t interfere if she loved him – even if he loved _her_ at least – but it’s not like that. I don’t blame her, but if she is going to make that kind of arrangement, she must choose someone –” She paused, throwing up her hands as she searched for the words. “Someone kind.”

“I see,” said Edward, and that compliment, being more genuine and not any more deserved, caused him to have to blink back tears. He laughed briefly and bent down to kiss her cheek. “Nevertheless, Mrs Graves, it is up to Julia.”

Hanne took a sip of her tea. “It’s no good everyone standing by and saying that when it’s such a terrible mistake to make even in these days.”

“Even so,” said Edward, though he sympathised. His own marriage had been a fiasco and, despite the fact that Caroline was perfectly nice and he liked to think of himself as a reasonable soul, they’d hurt each other badly in the short time they’d been together. Obtaining the divorce hadn’t been much less painful. “What are you going to do, tie her down and forbid her?”

Hanne lowered her head, looking tired. It was a long train journey up here and back. She must be serious to go such lengths, however outlandish her idea sounded.

“Mrs Graves,” he said, sympathy overriding annoyance. “You really should have telephoned.”

Hanne drew in an unsteady breath, her cup and saucer resting in her lap. “This is for Julia – it’s important.”

“If you have doubts about Mr Hall, then you must tell Julia, not me,” said Edward gently. “You can’t propose by proxy to someone else instead.”

Hanne shrugged. “I’ve tried, but she won’t listen. So, you must win her over. She doesn’t love him, and he certainly doesn’t love her. Now, don’t argue; it’s about time you did something about your own situation. You could if you wanted to; you’re like your father in that regard. If you set your mind to achieving something, you’ll find a way.”

It was an uncomfortably sharp observation. Edward glanced to one side, heat stinging his cheeks. During the War, he’d been in Intelligence. He’d spent much of that time persuading other people into doing things they didn’t want to. It wasn’t something he wanted to bring to a relationship. “Mrs Graves,” he said, after a moment, “I can’t possibly do any such thing, but I promise that as long as she’s here, as long as she’ll let me, I’ll try my best to be a friend to your daughter.”

“Yes,” said Hanne, putting her empty cup and saucer on the desk, and giving a small nod. She rose, picking up her gloves. “Oh, yes, dear. Thank you. That will do.”

“You’re not leaving already, surely?”

Hanne smiled. “There wasn’t much time between the train up and the train back down again.”

Edward followed her out. “Do you want me to come with you into Newcastle?”

“Don’t worry,” she said, patting his arm. “I have a taxi waiting.”

He watched her go before returning to the office, but it was a long time before he could settle down to his paperwork. Not important, he thought in disgust, and flung his pencil onto the desk. The whole business was going to be hideously awkward, wasn’t it? He wasn’t in the mood for antagonism in the office, and he certainly wasn’t about to try and break up anyone’s engagement. Besides which, Julia sounded as if she’d grown into a mercenary young lady, and, if that was so, he didn’t want to marry her anyway.

Edward watched the train pull into the tiny branch station, enveloped in clouds of smoke. Only two people got off, and only one of them could possibly be Julia Graves. Edward hung back, watching her step down lightly onto the platform. She wore a pink headscarf tied around her head, fair strands of hair escaping from under it, and a shabby, grey winter coat. She swung the small case in her hand gently as she stared about the station.

Edward moved forward, holding out his hand. “You must be Miss Graves.”

Julia’s attention had been on the porter, now on the way over with her trunk. Hearing Edward’s voice, she turned sharply and looked him up and down. She lifted her chin, gripped her case more tightly, and pointedly ignored his outstretched hand. “And you must be Mr Iveson. My new husband – or are you the one person my mother didn’t tell about that?”

Edward laughed; the initial tension easing. “Quite. I’m sorry.”

“No, I am,” said Julia. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s got into her.”

Edward ushered Julia out of the station and over to the waiting horse and cart – private petrol rations were still out of the question and there was only one taxi in the hamlet, and that was currently in for repair. He helped Julia up into the cart, before climbing in after and giving the nod to Mr Jerrold in the front that they were ready.

“It isn’t far,” Edward said, trying for a reassuring tone as he settled himself beside Julia. 

She gave a small nod.

“Look,” Edward said, holding onto the side of the cart as it made its unsteady way along the road, “I need a clerical worker, that’s all. I’m not going to propose to you, I promise. All due respect to your mother, but provided you can manage a decent number of words per minute and know shorthand, that’s all I’m after.”

Julia turned her head and gave him a reluctant smile. “Don’t worry. Your father put me through my paces. Didn’t he tell you?”

“Yes, sorry,” said Edward. 

Julia looked away and then back at him, hesitating before she said, “What _did_ Mother say to you? Because this crusade of hers against George is ridiculous. She did tell you that, didn’t she? I’m engaged to a perfectly decent man who doesn’t deserve this kind of thing from his future mother-in-law.”

“I expect she said much the same as she said to you and my parents,” said Edward. “You have my sympathy.”

Julia stared ahead. “I don’t want anyone’s sympathy, thank you. I’m quite happy.” She glanced at him as the cart slowly drew to a halt.

“I did say it wasn’t far,” Edward told her with a grin. “I’d have walked, but I knew you’d have luggage. Come on.” He climbed down, but when he turned back to help her out, she jumped down beside him and then picked up her case, while he dealt with the larger one.

“I’ll see you at nine o’clock on Thursday morning,” said Julia, when he’d escorted her to Mrs Donnelly’s door.

Edward nodded. “I’ll call round for you.”

“No need,” said Julia. “I can’t imagine your old printing works is going to be hard to find in a place like this.”

Edward took a step back. He couldn’t blame her for wanting as little to do with him as possible. “Yes, of course,” he said. He looked up at the house. “Mrs Donnelly’s a stickler for the rules, but she’s soft-hearted under that façade, and she’s a decent cook. You shouldn’t find it too bad.” He searched in both jacket pockets and fished out a folded square of paper, handing it over. “That’s the telephone number of my place, in case you have any difficulties.”

“Thank you,” said Julia. She hesitated and for a moment he thought she wasn’t going to take it, but then she did, shoving it into her pocket and wiping her fingers on her coat, as if it had been contaminated. She gave him a nod. “Don’t worry on my account, Mr Iveson. I shall be fine.”

He doffed his hat to her. “I’ll see you on Thursday, then.”

* * *

Julia woke unrefreshed and much too early on Wednesday morning. She shivered as she pulled herself out of yet another nightmare of being trapped under in the earth with all the dead things. She sat up, pressing her back into the lumpy feather pillows and scowled at the print patterns on the wallpaper. Trying to banish the old, dark memories, her mind leapt immediately to her current problems. 

How could Mother do this? It was up to Julia to choose who she married, not her mother. If she wanted someone steady and reliable and who wouldn’t expect any silly fuss or romance, what was wrong with that?

As if Edward Iveson would be better anyway! Julia tugged the covers closer against the sharp, northern air, her temper mounting at the injustice. She hadn’t got a proper look at him in the dark last night, but, honestly, he wasn’t anything to write home about – thin, awkward, and stuffy with no conversation. He was only here because he was shutting down a failed business for his father. George Hall had a proper job of his own, with prospects, and Mother was being utterly unreasonable.

Julia threw back the bedclothes and hopped out, only to gasp at the cold. She snatched up her dressing gown hastily, wrapping it tightly around her as she tried to find her wash things. The worst of it was that she didn’t want to be at odds with Mother. They had gone through a distant period once before, after her father and her brothers had died, and Julia never wanted things to be like that again. But Mother couldn’t go around expecting her to break off her engagement to start another with someone who hadn’t been able to find anyone else after his first wife left him, even if he was a family friend.

Well, thought Julia, as she picked up the worn, roughened hand towel, all Edward Iveson was getting out of her were words. And if she hadn’t been in need of something temporary like this, she wouldn’t be here at all.

If it was also something of a relief to be away from her reliable fiancé as well as her mother and a bombed out city with all its painful associations, she refused to admit that even to herself.

Julia made her way down the lane on Thursday morning. She’d walked around the village on the previous day and found the old print works easily, so she had no worry about where to go. Mr Iveson (senior) had told her that the government had taken it over temporarily during the war, but abandoned it again before the end, and it had been empty ever since. Now that she neared it, she could see the whole place was fenced off and closed down, and it looked as if no one had been there for decades, not only a couple of years. 

A Mr Hanley stopped her at the gate. He was the caretaker, he said, before leading her over to the square 1920s office block at the heart of the crumbling complex. Once inside it, he directed her on up to the main office. Julia rapped lightly on the office door and opened it to find Edward Iveson on the other side in mid conversation with an older man, who was standing by the door. 

“Miss Graves,” said Edward, turning towards her. “Mr North, this is our new clerical assistant, come to save us from drowning in paperwork. Please be nice.”

Mr North smiled at her and stretched across the doorway to shake her hand. He was somewhere in his mid fifties, with prematurely white hair. An amused gleam lit his eye as he looked her over. “I wouldn’t dream of being anything else. Miss Graves,” he added, meeting her gaze and giving a nod. “A pleasure.”

“Where do I start?” said Julia, turning back to Edward. She felt an unexpected jolt. She’d been vilifying him, but now he was in front of her, she found he was quite ordinary and real, not the ridiculous caricature she’d been painting in her head. True, he was a little too narrow-framed for his height, his nose was long and, overall not conventionally handsome, but he had notably blue-grey eyes, an expressive mouth, and the smile he gave her, brief though it was, lit every corner of his face. 

Edward moved around the desk to reach her. “I’ll show you the records room. I’ve got a backlog of letters waiting, and there will be some minute taking and dictation, but we could also use a hand with going through some of the old files.” He hesitated as he opened the door to the corridor for her. “Not the most cheering work, I’m afraid.”

“I’m beginning to think nothing will ever be cheering again,” said Julia with a shrug. Rationing was worse than ever and they’d only now fully emerged from one of the longest winters in decades. It had finally thawed into a wet spring, but all that snow and ice, power failures, and further shortages had been no way to begin a year.

Edward glanced down at her as they walked, the sound of their footsteps echoing up and down the empty corridor. “Let us hope otherwise,” he said, and stopped beside one of the doors, leading her inside. “The firm’s old filing cabinets are in here. Our current one is back in the main office. I’ll let you familiarise yourself with this place later, but if you would, I need a letter fired off to a Mr Matthews, who is proving to be something of a problem.”

“Oh?” said Julia, folding her arms.

Edward glanced around the room. There was dust on top of the cabinets and the blinds were half drawn. “Yes. A small area of the land is rented from him and he’s being a – rather a nuisance,” he said. “The thing now is to get a good price for the place, and he’s my main obstruction. However, you needn’t worry about that. This will be your province for the time being.”

“When you’re not dictating,” said Julia and when he gave her a curious look, she merely smiled. 

Edward brushed his hair back from his forehead, frowning. “Well, you’ve met North and the only other person on site is Hanley, the caretaker and presumably he let you in, yes?”

“Yes,” Julia said. “You want me to write a letter, you said? Shall we get on with it?”

Edward looked round the darkened file room and then back at her and nodded. “If you don’t mind me dictating, of course.”

“I would expect nothing less,” said Julia.

Julia was careful to keep her manner professional as the days passed. She took pleasure in being aggressively polite and efficient whenever she had to deal with Mr Iveson. She completed each task he set her with as much competence and speed as she could muster, and treated each one as a personal victory. When it came to Mr North, she could relax her guard and talk to him more naturally. It was unfair since it wasn’t Edward Iveson’s fault that her mother had randomly selected him as an alternative fiancé, but it was such an outrageous situation that Julia felt her approach was justified.

Mr Iveson didn’t make any real attempt to break through Julia’s reserve. If he wanted her to do something, he maintained his distance and kept his request brief and to the point, thanking her without any undue emphasis once she’d returned a pile of letters to his desk. When she had to take dictation from him, he engaged in no conversation beyond ascertaining that she was ready to begin, and got the business over with the minimum of fuss and corrections. All of which only went to prove that she had been right about him being stuffy and dull.

She almost wished he would talk to her a little more. It stole the enjoyment out of her campaign of aggressive politeness if he was only ever going to be mildly civil in return.

“Couldn’t you save the business instead?” she asked him, when she found him going through the new mail on her desk as she carried in an old card box full of paper. She dropped it onto the desk and a cloud of dust rose into her face, making her cough until her eyes watered.

Edward glanced over and raised an eyebrow. He pulled out a clean hanky and passed it across, with a gesture towards his face, evidently suggesting that she had managed to get dirt on her cheek.

Julia put up a hand and took out her own hanky to do the job. “Well, couldn’t you? Or do you just do everything your father tells you?”

“Not in the present climate,” said Edward. “And, no, I don’t do everything my father tells me, but this is his business and he’s very experienced. He bought it before the war with the idea of expanding, but obviously that was out of the question. Now there’s the labour shortage and we’re not heavy duty export material – what can you do? It’s a shame, but the buyer plans to build houses on the land and with so many people bombed out, that’s the important thing. But I need to settle Matthews first so we don’t make too much of a loss over the affair.”

Julia swallowed and looked down at the box, weary suddenly. She didn’t want to think about the bombs falling, but it was hard to avoid even here. There was a small crater out in the field behind the works, fenced off but not yet filled in. Some stray bomber must have dumped its load at random before heading for home. You couldn’t escape the damage anywhere.

“I suppose you’re right,” she acknowledged. “It feels like a ghost factory, though.”

Edward nodded. “I know what you mean. It’s a large space for only four people. You can almost hear everyone else clocking on and off around us. And we had such plans –” He stopped and gave a shrug. “It wasn’t to be. Excuse me, Miss Graves. I won’t take up any more of your time.”

With that, he walked away into his office, and Julia was left standing there, feeling that she’d lost several points in this game that they weren’t playing. _She_ was the one who was supposed to be stand-offish and businesslike, not him. It wasn’t fun that way round, only more lonely and miserable than everything already was.

Julia need not have worried. The next morning when she was halfway through typing out a letter to a former customer, Mr Iveson burst into her office and started rifling through the filing cabinet, pulling out files and papers before spreading them across one of the empty desks. He rearranged them, a frown of concentration on his face and a pen in his mouth.

“Mr Iveson?” said Julia, ceasing her typing to watch. “Is something wrong?”

He lifted his head and removed the pen, dropping it down onto a pile of papers, and smiled at her. There was no reserve in his manner now; his face was alight with satisfaction, and he beckoned her over eagerly, to examine his handiwork.

“Yes,” he said as she reached him, “something is, and I’ve tracked it down at last. Among several other discrepancies, Matthews has been overcharging on the rent ever since we took over.” He pulled one of the sheets of paper nearer. “Here, see – that’s the original agreement, this is the copy – oh, and that’s the plot of land on the map. And, see, he’s added this section into the equation, which isn’t actually his if you check back up with the deeds –” He halted and laughed. “Sorry, I must be boring you, but I’ve known something was wrong for ages, but I couldn’t see it, because it matched up with the accounts. It just took going back long enough to get him.”

“Well done,” said Julia, laughing. “Do you need any help?”

Edward shook his head, staring down at the papers again. He halted and lifted his head. “Wait, yes. Can you ring Matthews up and make an appointment with him as soon as possible, please?”

“Of course, Mr Iveson,” said Julia, recovering some of her formality. 

Edward waited until she had managed to book an appointment to see Mr Matthews in Durham in two days time and then said, “You’ll have to come with me, if you don’t mind. I shall need someone reliable to take notes. Preferably typed up in triplicate after and signed in blood.”

“Oh, dear,” said Julia. “I shall do my best. Why is he like that? If he’d been less awkward, you might not have noticed any discrepancies.”

Edward stiffened slightly. “I hope I should have done,” he said, and then put a hand to his head, some of the excitement draining out of him. “Well, I think he believes we’re essentially brokers – you know, buying up the place to sell it on at the highest price – and he seems to feel it’s his duty to confound us and lessen our profit. It isn’t how it was, but it’s understandable from his point of view. Plenty of the locals would agree.”

“Oh,” said Julia. “Well, yes, it doesn’t look very good.”

Edward darted an uneasy glance at her, hesitating over whether or not to speak, before saying eventually, “Father isn’t like that. Of course, he doesn’t pick up any business with the intention of making a loss, but he has this knack for resurrecting failing companies. It sounds odd, but he started it years ago as a way of rebelling against his father and it grew from there. It hasn’t always come off, of course, but he’s generally careful.”

“Don’t worry,” said Julia. “I believe you. I like your father.”

Edward gave her a relieved smile. “Yes, of course. I forget that you know my parents, too. Anyway, I’m sorry – I interrupted you. I’m sure you were busy.”

Julia decided that it was about time that she stopped punishing him for her mother’s crimes. The next couple of months would be so much easier if they started acting like human beings around each other.

“You’re the boss,” she said. “You’re allowed to interrupt me if you need to.”

He grinned, gathering up several sheets of paper into one card file. “I suppose I am. Well, I’m going to take notes. Matthews won’t know what hit him when we turn up.” He met her gaze, a humorous gleam in his eyes. “I believe this is one meeting with him I might actually enjoy.”

Julia watched him leave, and laughed to herself, alone in the office. Mr Iveson had a little colour and initiative to him, then, after all. She sat back down at her typewriter and realised that she too was curious about the upcoming meeting.

* * *

Cross-checking the accounts took Edward the best part of the rest of the day, and by the time he emerged again, Julia was in the middle of pulling her coat on, ready to leave, while North talked to her from the doorway.

When she turned her head and caught sight of Edward, she didn’t fall silent and sober or tell him she’d finished her allotted tasks for the day, she smiled instead as she fished her headscarf out of her pocket.

“As you see, I was trying to make my escape,” she said. “Foiled in the attempt, I suppose.”

Edward shook his head. “Not at all.” He glanced over at the clock. “Frankly, I’m not sure what we’re all still doing here anyway.”

“Because,” said North, “we’re at the back of beyond and it’s not as if there’s anywhere much _to_ go. Never mind, at least out there is more scenic than in here. Ready, Miss Graves? I’m going your way.”

Julia nodded, and waved at Edward before letting North usher her out through the door.

Edward sat down on the nearest empty desk in the ensuing peace, and smiled. Julia had evidently decided to call a truce. Her attempts at remaining firmly and coldly professional had been enjoyably absurd at times – like her habit of returning every completed piece of work as if it was a challenge to him to set something harder next time, or the way that she sometimes forgot herself anyway and lapsed into casual conversation for a minute or two or bestowed a brief, bright smile on him, before recollecting herself – but if she was going to be more natural around the office, it would be a relief. They had work to do, after all.

Two achievements in one day, Edward thought. Perhaps this rotten year was finally improving.

“Miss Graves!” Edward stopped short at the edge of the grass and waved at Julia, who was standing over by the bomb crater, looking down over the fencing into its depths. He waited, but she didn’t turn. “Miss Graves!”

He shrugged and strode over the damp grass to join her. “Miss Graves,” he said again, not wanting to startle her. Hanley had told him he wasn’t sure the crater was stable, and while it wasn’t that deep, she could still do herself an injury if the fencing gave and she took a tumble. It ought to have been filled in by now, but the place had been empty for so long and they were now only weeks away from the whole area being dug up in any case.

Julia blinked and turned her head only slowly, hardly seeming to register him for a moment before she stepped back from the hole. “Oh,” she said. “Mr Iveson. I’m sorry – I was only curious.”

“There’s nothing to see, and it may not be safe,” said Edward, keeping his voice carefully even. “Come away.”

Something in her face when she’d turned had reminded him sharply of the only other time he recalled meeting her. He’d attended her brothers’ funeral. They had been killed when a bomb had hit a shelter in the Blitz. It had been six or seven years ago and she had been young, eighteen or nineteen, but she’d been so white and strained and quiet, she’d looked older. Edward had spent the war judging people’s state of mind, searching for their hopes and fears and ambitions, and instinct told him her presence here now wasn’t about a random bomb crater. His mother had said to him once, a couple of years ago, when she’d sent him to see Hanne on her behalf, that Julia had never truly come to terms with what had happened that night. 

“Julia?” he said, when she didn’t respond to his words.

She frowned and shook herself. “Sorry. Am I late for work? Have you come to scold me?”

“I was concerned,” he said stiffly. “I didn’t want you falling in and injuring yourself.”

Julia looked at him closely. “Oh, goodness, have I hurt your feelings at last? I was beginning to think you didn’t have any.”

“Come along,” said Edward, turning back towards the office block. He wasn’t sure what one said to a statement like that. “Otherwise we _will_ be late.”

She followed, quickening her steps to match his long strides. “You didn’t seem to mind me being so stand-offish all the time.”

“You’ll have to try much harder than that,” said Edward. “Although I’d rather simply be friends. It’s not me you’re angry with, is it?”

Julia let out a long breath. “No,” she said, following him up the steps into the building. “It’s Mother. How could she have gone that far? Going over to Kent, and then even up here, telling everyone –” She pulled her mouth downwards. “I can’t imagine what your parents thought! And there’s nothing wrong with George. He’s very respectable and solid and all the things mothers are supposed to like.”

“I can’t answer for Mrs Graves, either,” said Edward, holding the door open for her. “I can only say again that I promise not to propose, and in the meantime, how about getting through another box of those files?”

Julia turned with a smile. “Don’t you have to work on pinning down Mr Matthews?”

“I’ve got nothing left to do on that front but wait for one return telephone call,” said Edward. “What do you say?”

“As ever – how could I possibly refuse?”

Later, after spending half the morning going through dusty files, while Julia asked him about where to put the more ambiguous items she’d found, Edward returned to his office to make some telephone calls. Once there, he began following up a separate piece of business that involved a long and tiresome telephone call to Nottingham and ate up the best part of his afternoon.

By the time he found his way out of the office and across the corridor into Julia’s, he was taken aback to hear music and stopped in the doorway, watching as Julia and North tried to dance, although without much success in the cluttered space.

Edward leant against the door lintel unobserved, smiling; watching Julia laughing easily in a way she hadn’t before in his presence. He wished suddenly he could make a world where she could be happy more often; where the war hadn’t happened, Christy and Rudy Graves hadn’t died, and everything wasn’t so endlessly drab and grey. He would try to treat her to a decent lunch tomorrow in Durham if time and Mr Matthews allowed, but even that couldn’t be guaranteed.

“Iveson,” said North, turning and dropping back, out of breath. “I’m sorry, Miss Graves,” he said, looking at Julia again. “This is doing nothing for my leg.”

Julia sat on one of the desks, breathless with laughter. She glanced aside at Edward and pressed her hand over her mouth in an effort to stifle her giggles. “Oh, dear,” she gasped. “It wasn’t – we didn’t mean –”

North nodded over at the gramophone placed on the desk next to Julia. “She said it was too quiet in here. I said she could borrow that, see if it helped.”

“I type faster with a bit of noise,” added Julia. “In general, that is. It’s deathly silent in here. It puts me off. I’m used to a busy office, all of us clacking away together.”

Edward felt his momentary good mood drain away. He disliked the idea that she instantly thought he was going to scold her. It was better, though, he reminded himself, that Julia only thought of him as her employer – certainly not someone she need ever think of any other way. He wished – oh, things that didn’t matter.

“Yes, of course,” he said, “although I’m not sure dancing in here is entirely safe.”

As the swing music continued, Edward smothered an unwise temptation to stretch out his hand and finish the dance with her. He rubbed his temple, feeling suddenly immensely weary. It would not do. Julia was engaged, and while he had no particular feelings towards her, there was no denying she was attractive, and – when she wasn’t trying to freeze him out – lively and intelligent. In this lonely place, an empty workplace in the middle of the greyest of years, she was a lift of unexpected sunshine. He was only human, after all. He could hardly help noticing her.

The music stopped, the stylus scratching painfully against the record before Julia leant over and rescued it. The moment of temptation, the possibility of undoing all his progress for one instant of pleasure, evaporated. Edward felt a small pang at its passing.

“Mr Iveson is very careful about his employees’ safety,” Julia informed North. “We’d better behave ourselves in future. I suppose he has a point.”

North looked at Iveson, a gleam in his eyes as he raised his eyebrows.

Edward wasn’t in a mood to share their joke. “I try,” he murmured.

“What time train do we take to Durham tomorrow?” asked Julia. She slid off the spare desk and crossed back to her own to take her place behind her typewriter. She threaded in a new sheet of paper, but paused there, fingers poised, as she awaited his answer.

Edward straightened himself, casting off the momentary shadows. “Eight, from Newcastle, so we’ll have to get to the station here by seven-fifteen. I’ll call for you at Mrs Donnelly’s, if that’s all right. I’ll be passing anyway, so I may as well.”

“I don’t know,” said Julia, looking at him and carefully ironing the laughter out of her face. “Mrs Donnelly has strict rules about gentleman callers.”

“Miss Graves, I shall be there at about ten past seven in the morning. Mrs Donnelly will not object, I’m sure.”

“Of course not, “ said Julia, turning back to her typing with a distinctly victorious curve to her mouth. “You don’t count, naturally. How silly of me to forget.”

Edward left without attempting to get the better of her. It was all too true, in any case. Somehow or other, he never did.

* * *

Julia had never been to Durham before and she leant forward as they pulled into the station, pressing gloved fingers against the window to better see the city as it came into view. The cathedral and castle seemed to leap up out of the landscape below from the heights of the train station; stone houses and carved medieval towers rising out of green-leafed trees. 

When she and Mr Iveson got off the train and walked down the hill into the city centre, it proved grimier on closer inspection, the buildings blackened by soot and pollution, as was the River Wear that wound its way around Durham’s ancient heart, but the old beauty of the place shone through. It made a nice change in these days of endless grey and drabness and rubble.

Mr Matthews’s office was on the same side of the river as the train station, in an upper storey not far from a stone bridge across the Wear. His place of business was not beautiful, only a grubby set of rooms above a boarded up shop. A grey-haired woman in a brown serge suit met them and apologised for Mr Matthews, who was, she told them, going to be late to the meeting.

Three quarters of an hour had passed and Julia and Mr Iveson were still waiting in the draughty outer office, sitting on a pair of battered old wooden chairs positioned in a row against the wall, rather as if Mr Matthews was planning to emerge from the inner office and shoot them.

Julia stifled a sigh and leaned in towards Edward, nudging against him with her shoulder. “Do you think he hopes we’ll go away if he makes us wait long enough?”

“He’ll regret it if he does,” said Edward.

Julia blinked. “Gracious. What are you planning?”

“Nothing,” he returned in an undertone, turning to look at her. “I’ll be forced to take the matter to the authorities. Or come back tomorrow if I must, I suppose. I am sorry, but we are going to sit here until he deigns to see us.”

Julia nodded. “He might actually be delayed. These things happen.”

“Indeed,” murmured Mr Iveson, staring blankly ahead at the dividing wall. 

Julia followed his gaze, but couldn’t feel the wall had much value in the way of either entertainment or beauty. There was one picture hanging on it; a faded Victorian print of the cathedral. Beside it someone had pinned a list of wartime instructions about air raids. Julia rummaged inside her handbag instead, checking that she had her notebook and pencil ready. She didn’t want to read about air raids.

The clock above their heads ticked on loudly and not quite evenly, every third tick being slower than the preceding two. Mr Iveson, after another five minutes, shifted sharply on his chair and then stood and began walking backwards and forwards in the cramped space. 

Julia’s mind began to drift, lulled by the clock, Edward’s measured footsteps and the lack of any need to be anywhere else. The room was growing warmer. She blinked and her gaze strayed idly across to the war notice, inevitably drawn by the only reading matter in sight.

She must have semi-dozed for a moment, for the clock’s unsteady tick and Mr Iveson’s steps on the dusty lino took on strange, unreal properties. Julia thought she was walking down into a shelter, but once she was inside, it wasn’t safe to stay – the roof was starting to cave in on her. She couldn’t make any move to escape; she was too heavy and her limbs wouldn’t respond. She struggled and jerked fully awake with a small gasp before falling sidelong off the narrow chair onto the linoleum.

Mr Iveson swung around and halted in surprise, his forehead furrowing as he took in her predicament. “Julia?”

“I’m all right,” she snapped, trying to pull herself up, but she was still a little dazed. She tugged too heavily at the chair seat for support and it fell on top of her. “Dratted thing!” she said, and then looked up in surprise as Mr Iveson closed his hand around hers and helped her to her feet.

He released her and bent over to right the chair. “Are you sure?” he asked, putting his hand on her shoulder. “You gave yourself quite a knock.”

“I’m perfectly all right,” she insisted. She wiped her eyes and swallowed. “I banged my elbow, but I shall live.” She wished she hadn’t said that. Of course she would live; she always did, didn’t she?

Mr Iveson’s gaze narrowed and he turned on his heel, knocking at the inner door. When he received no reply, he tried it, to find it was locked.

“He definitely isn’t hiding in there, then,” said Julia.

Mr Iveson glanced over at her. “No. I’ll go back – see if the secretary can get you a glass of water.”

“I fell asleep for a minute, and the inevitable happened. No need to fuss,” said Julia. Honestly, what part of _perfectly all right_ was so hard for one’s manager to understand?

Mr Iveson let his hand fall back to his side. “I’m sorry,” he said in that neutral way of his that might mean anything. “You were shaking. I was concerned.”

“I was only providing us with some brief entertainment,” said Julia and then smiled at him to prove that she was fine. “My family always tend to the overly dramatic. You must have noticed that by now.”

Julia and Mr Iveson waited for an hour and thirty-five minutes more before Mr Matthews finally came in through the outer door. He was a large-built man in his fifties, on the short side, and wearing an elderly suit with the lapels worn smooth, and a decorative button missing from the cuff. 

Once they were all inside the larger inner office, Julia sat down in the corner with her notepad and pencil at the ready. Mr Iveson faced Mr Matthews across the desk, and the delayed meeting finally began. Julia, head down and pencil poised, raised her eyebrows unseen, eager to witness Edward bring Mr Matthews to book and more worried than she had expected that he might not be able to do it. 

Mr Iveson, back at the print works, was reserved and soft-spoken but as he addressed Matthews, Julia saw yesterday’s energy present again but contained behind his polite façade. He remained civil but refused to give ground, cutting through Matthew’s bluster and objections at each turn with unexpected authority.

“I resent these insinuations,” said Matthews, red-faced and glaring after an hour of increasingly irritated repetition on both sides.

Mr Iveson glanced up from his notes. “Mr Matthews, as I thought I’d already made quite clear, they are not insinuations. They are verifiable facts and while I would prefer we came to a private arrangement, I will go the police if you continue to be obstinate.”

Matthews stared back at Mr Iveson and then, as Julia ceased writing in the temporary silence and lifted her head, he glanced over at her, as if looking for an escape. She merely gazed past his ear, affecting disinterest.

“Well, sir?” said Mr Iveson. He pushed the written agreement across the desk towards him. “I suggest you agree to my terms – which are generous, in the circumstances – and we can all move on.”

Matthews huffed. “Yes, you would make a fuss about a few honest errors, wouldn’t you? I know your type. Probably your people’s fault, not mine. I remember Jones who kept the accounts over at your place. He was –”

“Meticulous to a fault,” said Mr Iveson, drawing back and folding his arms. “Mr Matthews, I’m serious about the police. Besides which, you have nothing to gain from continuing to obstruct this sale. You must know that.”

Matthews narrowed his gaze, then grunted and picked up his pen. “Yes, yes, there’s no arguing with you fellows, is there?” He signed the document, put down the pen and then swore at Mr Iveson, who took back the sheet of paper and glanced over at Julia.

“My apologies, miss,” said Matthews, catching the look. “I forgot we had a lady present.”

Mr Iveson led Julia out of the office at such a pace that she practically had to run down the stairs to keep up with him. They emerged out into the street and stopped on the pavement, finding themselves in the middle of the lunchtime crowds.

“Are you afraid he’s going to change his mind and come after us?” Julia asked, catching at the edge of Mr Iveson’s coat sleeve for support as a middle-aged woman with a large shopping-bag elbowed her in passing.

Mr Iveson glanced down at her and the tension ebbed out of him. “Perhaps I am rather. I wasn’t joking about the police, but I don’t know how long this business might drag on if we have to start criminal proceedings. It wouldn’t do any of us any good.”

“I took everything down faithfully, don’t worry. And I can type it up in triplicate as requested, although I’ll leave signing things in blood to you.”

“Thank you. I’m only sorry I had to drag you into it. He’s not the charming sort, is he? Anyway, our little victory deserves a celebration. Shall we have lunch before we go back? We could see the cathedral, too, if you liked. It would be a shame not to, while you’re here.”

Julia had expected Edward Iveson to want to rush back to the office, but she was not going to argue with a free lunch. She tied her headscarf on more firmly, and nodded. “Although only if you think the manager won’t mind. He’s rather strict, you know.”

“Is he?” said Mr Iveson, and she could hear the amusement in his voice, though he remained straight-faced. “Well, we did start early, and Matthews was the last major obstacle left in getting this business finished. I think he’ll understand this once. Come on.”

Mr Iveson led Julia across the stone bridge and on, along the narrow, winding road that led up the hill to the cathedral and castle at the top. He stopped at a small café off the market square, and turned to her. “Here we are.”

“Jolly good,” Julia said. “I’m starving. Some inconsiderate person made me get up at half-past six this morning.”

“It’s not bad,” said Julia, as she lowered her fork, half-way through her cottage pie. “Which is high praise these days. How about yours?”

Edward glanced down at his fish pie and then back over at her. “You know, once upon a time, before the war, I knew people who’d take me to some of the most exclusive restaurants in London. It feels like a dream now.”

“Oh, I don’t believe in any of that before the war nonsense,” said Julia. “I was still in sixth form when it started and, of course, school food was pretty dire anyway. I do remember parties, though. I’m sure I had some when I was a child, with cake and jellies and ham sandwiches.”

“It must get better soon. I hear they’re planning to ease up on clothing rations before the year is out.”

“I can’t eat my clothes,” said Julia, and took another mouthful of her dinner, which really _wasn’t_ bad. Quite good, in fact.

“It’d be something. I’ve had the same winter coat for six years. My previous one gave way in ’41, and the current one was formerly Uncle Ted’s spare. I think he still regrets letting me have it. There wasn’t much to do when he tore his but to wear his gardening coat.”

Julia laughed, but her mind was already moving onto other things. She tucked her fork into the mashed potato. “I’ve been wondering for ages what exactly it is that you do? You talk about your father’s work all the time, but what about you? You can’t spend all your time closing down printing firms or someone would have murdered you years ago.”

“Ah,” said Edward, putting his knife and fork down, having finished eating. He shifted back into his chair. “That’s a little complicated. I was in the Foreign Office, before the war, but that hit a dead end, and I’d agreed to work for Father. Then the war happened, which took me elsewhere, of course. By the time I was finally at liberty again, Terrex needed dealing with. I’m something of an anomaly.”

Julia met his gaze across the table. He didn’t expect her to feel sorry for him, did he? “But your father will find you something else afterwards?”

“The same position he had in mind previously remains an option,” said Edward. He seemed to sense her disapproval, sitting still, his words formal.

“It’s all right for some.” Julia swallowed her last mouthful and grimaced at him, to show that she didn’t mean it, or not very much.

“He’d have stepped back from a more active role years ago if it hadn’t been for the war. Once this is done, he can start to draw back from a few things at last.”

“What’s the job you’ve got in mind, then?” asked Julia. “Are you going to wander around closing down unwanted works all over Britain? Everyone will hate you.”

Edward placed his napkin on the tablecloth and frowned. “No, thank you, Julia. You see, originally, when Father bought into Terrex, he planned to combine it with a stationery and paper-making firm. That went out the window, of course, but the stationery firm are still going, and once paper is no longer rationed, there should be some interesting opportunities for development. I hope to be involved in that.”

“Stationery?” said Julia, and shook her head. “Not very exciting.”

The animation left his face and his lips compressed into an even line. “No,” he said eventually, “I suppose it wouldn’t seem so to most people.”

“I didn’t mean,” said Julia, and halted there as the waiter stopped to ask them if they wanted coffee.

Edward glanced at Julia, lifting his eyebrows in enquiry. She shook her head. The meal was turning awkward, and she didn’t feel like prolonging it.

“Edward,” she said, leaning forward once the waiter had gone to fetch the bill, “I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I don’t know anything about stationery except that Miss Williams used to make you have to practically sign your life away before you could have any new carbon paper or pencils. I just thought – whatever happened at the Foreign Office, or in whatever hush-hush thing you did during the war –”

“Julia!” he hissed. “Don’t mention that! How on earth did you know?”

She had been about to put her napkin on her plate; now she dropped it onto the floor and banged her head on the table in her efforts to retrieve it. “Ouch.”

“You can’t say things like that out loud in a café.” Then, pulling down the corners of his mouth in reluctant sympathy, he added, “Are you all right?”

Julia put a hand to her mouth, stifling laughter. “Yes, yes. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. My mother said something once – but it was obvious you must have done something in that line. You never mention a regiment or ship or what have you.”

“I think we should make a move,” said Edward, “although we can still go to the cathedral, if you want.” He hesitated, playing with his fingers. “I hope you will. I’d like for you to see it.”

Julia rested her chin on her hands, staying put till she’d said her piece. “What I’m trying to say – clearly quite terribly – is that, whatever went wrong in the past, I think you’re awfully clever and you handled Mr Matthews splendidly, and you shouldn’t bury yourself in watermarks and letterheads unless it’s something you really want.”

“Then thank you,” he said softly. The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips, and she saw the light back in his eyes. “I think you’re being too kind – and, I promise, it does interest me. Now, how about the cathedral, or would you rather go back now?”

Julia straightened her dress down and shook herself out as she stood. “I’m all for playing truant. Although, are you sure we should? I wouldn’t want to take advantage of your father’s good nature.”

“We’ve all been working extra hours,” said Edward, rising to his feet. “There’s nothing else to do in the place, is there? You’re owed time, Miss Graves, and my father is a conscientious employer.”

“In that case,” said Julia, watching Edward retrieve his jacket from the back of the chair, “yes, please.”

“It’s not the York Minster,” Edward said in an undertone, standing close to her as they shuffled respectfully around the aisles of Durham’s ancient cathedral. “But when I first came the other month – I don’t know. I think I like it better.”

Julia stared up at the ornate roof. She had never been to York, so she couldn’t make comparisons, but she wasn’t usually fond of old churches and cathedrals. They too often felt cold and dead. This one seemed in some way to be alive, although she could not have said where the difference lay.

Having admired the rose window, St Cuthbert’s tomb, and found that of the Venerable Bede, they made it up the three hundred or so steps to the top of one of the towers and looked out at the surrounding countryside. Julia held onto the crenellated edge and watched miniature people below, walking along between dolls’ houses, like an elaborate model village. She turned her head to look at Edward, and saw that he was keeping well back. 

“Not keen on heights?”

Edward gave a reluctant laugh. “Not much, I admit. But I can admire the view nevertheless.”

“It’s splendid,” said Julia, putting a hand up to make sure her headscarf didn’t come loose in the wind. Stray strands of hair blew into her face. “Thank you. I’m glad we did this. I’d never have seen this place otherwise. I doubt George and I will be coming north any time soon.”

Edward frowned and didn’t reply. Then, as she crossed back to him, ready to make the descent back down the tower, he said, more quietly, “Julia, do you mind me asking something? I know it’s none of my business, and I don’t want to sound like I’m siding with your mother –”

“Oh, no,” said Julia. “Well, whatever it is, out with it! Although you surely can’t have taken a dislike to George as well? You haven’t even met him!”

Edward shook his head. “I only wondered – why a marriage of convenience at all? It’s a little early for you to be giving up on something more, isn’t it?”

Julia’s taw tightened. “You’re right. It’s none of your business,” she said, heading past him through the door and starting down the steps. Hearing him hurry after, she added, “Besides, I’ve never been in love. I don’t think I’m the right kind of person.”

Her heart sped up as she kept on walking. She couldn’t explain her reasons to him – why this was the best choice, to settle for something practical and sensible, to keep her life on an even keel, with none of the dramatics that came with love. She would leave a job she hated to run a household and be a hostess instead – to organise things again – which she knew she could do, and enjoy. She would help George and his daughter. It was perfectly sensible and she knew exactly what she was doing. But other people never understood when she tried to explain, not even Mother who saw nothing wrong in a pragmatic marriage in itself. Julia carried on down the spiral staircase, concentrating on calming her breathing – in and out, one step, two steps down. She would be useful, she would be calm, she would be dignified. She would be _safe_.

Loving someone would only aggravate the curse she seemed to be stuck with. This alternative was better than loneliness and drudgery, but it wouldn’t bring the kind of dangerous emotions and connections that would provoke the curse and harm anyone else. It was better this way.

“I know what I’m doing,” she said, and turned to look straight at him and let him see that she meant it. “I don’t need anyone worrying about me.”

Edward nodded, and followed as she started downward again. “Not much you can do about that, though.”

“I’m sorry?” said Julia, halting once more.

Edward blinked. “Your mother,” he said. “You can’t stop her from worrying about you. At least, I can’t with mine, and judging by what’s happened lately, I doubt you’ve found the secret of it, either.”

“True.” Then Julia shrugged. “But Mother will be fine once she sees how well it all works out. You’ll see.”

Back in the office, Julia set to work typing up her notes from the meeting. She paused at the end of a line to smile as she thought about the rest of her trip out. It had been a surprisingly good day, and she hadn’t had one of those in a long while. She drew back from the typewriter and let her gaze stray to the door to Mr Iveson’s office. It had also been too long since she’d had anyone she counted as a real friend and it was a strange feeling to acknowledge that Mr Iveson – Edward – was rapidly becoming one. She twisted the engagement ring around on her finger. She doubted they’d meet again once she left this place, and she found herself wishing that weren’t so.

It was probably for the best. She’d kept things the way they were all this time for very good reasons. She was much happier without these unfamiliar feelings beginning to awaken and flutter into life within her. She’d only have to bury them again.

She adjusted the paper and started typing with renewed vigour. Yes, it was for the best, and she’d be seeing George very soon to remind her of that, thank goodness.

It was all very well deciding that she wanted to keep Mr Iveson and her personal feelings entirely separate, but Julia’s sleeping mind was far less cooperative. Mr Iveson from turned up in her nightmares later regardless of her wishes. She was, as ever, pinned down under heavy rubble in the darkness, unable to get free, and struggling to breathe. This time it was Mr Iveson who was lying dead nearby, not Mother or one of her brothers.

“No,” Julia said firmly when she woke in the early hours, heart thudding loudly in the eerie silence of the country that had not yet fully grown used to, Londoner that she was. She clenched unsteady hands around the bedcovers and glared into the darkness. “Oh, no. _No._ ” 

It simply would not _do_.


	3. Chapter Two

Edward made his way down the corridor to the records room in search of Julia, a piece of paper in one hand. The door was open and he stepped in, relieved to have found her so easily. He stopped abruptly on entering, spying her turning about, as if dancing again, but this time in silence. She nearly careered into him, and yelled before dropping a book onto the floor.

Edward took an involuntarily step back as Julia cursed under her breath and bent down to retrieve her book. He tried, too late, to help, and caused her to knock her head against his chin.

“Ow,” said Julia. “You could be more careful!”

Edward’s mouth quivered with repressed amusement. “I’m sorry. It didn’t occur to me that you might be dancing around in here.”

“It is my lunch hour,” Julia said, hugging the book against her. “I came in here out of the way so you wouldn’t see me and then you decide to hunt me down! It’s very unfair. Honestly, I’ve only danced in the office twice in the whole time I’ve been here and you caught me both times.”

Edward leant against the nearest filing cabinet and rubbed his bruised chin. “That is unreasonable of me. I’m sorry. But, you see, the possibility never occurred to me. I’ve been here for over three months and somehow I’ve never felt the need to dance on the premises.”

“Oh, haven’t you?” said Julia, raising her chin. She had a glint in her eye, but all she said was, “I had a reason, I promise. I spoke to George the other day and he talked about dancing – at the reception, you know, and he means a waltz and I don’t remember learning how to.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

She smoothed the book open to the right page and laid it down on the desk beside her. “I hope so. My school only went in for country dancing, and otherwise I know some of the latest dance hall crazes. But –” She shrugged. “Ask me to strip the willow or injure someone in the Flying Scotsman and I know what I’m doing, but this – I don’t want to trip over George’s feet with everyone else watching.”

Edward glanced over at the book, studying its diagrams. They were mainly complicated patterns of footprints that he couldn’t imagine being helpful rather than mystifying. It looked more like the diagram of a crime scene than a dance. “No, I don’t suppose you do.” 

“I wonder,” she said, stealing a sidelong glance at him. “Perhaps you could – but no. How silly of me. I don’t suppose for a minute that _you_ can dance!”

He abandoned caution at that insult and stretched his hand. “There is only one way to find out.”

Julia stepped forward and placed her hand in his. He pulled her in closer, positioning her properly in front of him.

“Like that,” he said. “No, no. Don’t try to look at the book.” He placed her hand on his shoulder, then his hand against the small of her back and then clasped her other hand in his. “Now,” he said, and hummed under his breath: “one, two, three – one, two, three –”

Julia must have learnt at some point, as she picked up the steps instinctively, moving with ease despite the cramped space. They avoided a row of filing cabinets as they turned only for him to catch his elbow on one of the shelves, and they both halted.

“If you need any more lessons,” said Edward as they released each other, “I think we’d better try one of the sheds, not an office. This place is more of an obstacle course than a dance floor.”

Julia raised her gaze to catch his, her eyes brimming with amusement. Her mouth twitched and then she fell back against the metal cabinets, giggling.

“Julia,” said Edward. “What now?”

She shook her head, stifling her laughter so that she could speak. “I got you,” she said. “Oh, I got you. You can’t stand there and looked down your nose at me because you’ve never danced in the office now, can you?”

Edward closed his eyes momentarily. “So, you _can_ waltz?”

“Oh, no,” said Julia. “But I expect I’d have managed with my book. Except when you said that I couldn’t resist trying to make you. And it worked!”

He picked up the book and passed it back to her. “You’re a liability. I’ve picked up two minor injuries since I came after you, and all I wanted to ask was if you could take down a letter for me.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said, closing up the book and shaking off her lighter mood. “Of course. I’ll come back right away.”

“It can wait until after your lunch,” he said. “It’s not that urgent.”

He slipped out of the room, leaving her behind. He stroked his injured chin with one hand, and flexed the other – he could still feel her fingers enclosed in his. She’d looked up at him, dusty marks on her cheek; frowning in concentration in a way that made the corner of his mouth lift at the memory. God, he’d have liked to lean in and kiss her. The temptation reawoke in him at the thought and he swallowed, giving himself a firm mental shake, before he set off down the corridor. It was as well that the records room was far too awkward a place to dance in. If they made a habit of it, he’d be lost.

“I’m sorry,” he said, when she walked into his office about ten minutes later. “That wasn’t terribly appropriate.”

Julia sat down on the chair nearest his desk and gave a subdued smile. Her hands clasped her notebook tightly and the ring on her left hand caught the light. “I shouldn’t have teased you into it. I’m sorry. I will do these things.”

“No, no,” he murmured. “No real damage done. My dignity will recover in time, as will my elbow and my chin. How is your head?”

She relaxed into a wider smile. “Oh, it’s fine. I think you got the worst end of the stick.”

“I can believe it,” he said. “Are you ready? This letter won’t write itself.”

“I’m beginning to wonder if you live here.”

Edward looked up from the pile of thin wartime-quality paper on his desk to see Julia poking her head round the office door. He put down his pencil and rose. “Sorry to bother you on a Saturday, Miss Graves, but I couldn’t find the Yates file and I knew you’d know where it was.”

“Not to worry,” said Julia, entering fully. “It’s another hour or so until George’s train comes in, so I had nothing to do. I shall go and find it and put you out of your misery, never fear.” She turned to leave again and then swung round. “You know, you should have the occasional Saturday off.”

Edward sat back down. “I do from time to time, but it’s not as if there’s a great deal to do here. Better to get this finished and get back to London sooner.”

“I shall go delve into the archives,” said Julia. “If I’m not back in an hour, come and find me, because I can’t have poor George arriving and me not waiting. I did offer to meet him at Central Station, but we decided it would be nicer to go to the sea.”

Edward opened his mouth to respond, but she had already gone, pulling the door closed after her. He shook his head and set to work checking through the file in front of him, looking for the details of a patent Terrex had supposedly registered at some point.

Once he’d finally achieved his aim, he slid the papers back into the card folder, ready to deal with the next item on his list for the morning. “That was quick,” he said, hearing the handle turn and the door creak open. He looked up, and was stopped short on seeing a stranger standing there, not Julia. The newcomer was a thick-set man of medium height, perhaps around forty, with waved brown hair; good-looking in a steady sort of way.

“I beg your pardon,” said Edward, getting to his feet. “I thought you were our secretary. Were you looking for me?”

The man gave a short smile. “I think it may be your secretary that I’m after. I’m Hall. George Hall. Miss Graves’s fiancé. I understand she’s here?”

“Of course,” said Edward. So this was the dreaded fiancé that had brought Mrs Graves running up here to beg him to marry Julia in his stead. He didn’t seem particularly terrible on first glance, although Edward had assumed he would be younger. “She’s hunting down a file for me. She won’t be long. I don’t think she was expecting you so soon.”

Hall nodded. “Thought I’d get an earlier train. Seemed a shame to waste so much of the weekend.”

“Quite,” said Edward. “Shall I go and find Miss Graves for you?”

Hall glanced around the office with its half-emptied shelves and cabinets. One of the windows was boarded up. He coughed. “If she’s not going to be long, I’ll wait, if that’s all right with you, er –?”

“Oh, forgive me,” said Edward. “I’m Iveson. I’m the manager here at Terrex. Do you want some tea? I think there’s some left in the pot, although it may be somewhat stewed by now.”

Hall grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

Edward led Hall back into the outer office and rustled up two clean and uncracked cups. “Milk, sugar?” he asked, and when Hall nodded, he set about pouring the tea.

“Your turn to be mother, eh?” said Hall vaguely.

Edward stifled irrational irritation and passed the cup and saucer over. “Are you going to take Ju – Miss Graves – out somewhere nice?”

“I’d like to,” Hall said. “I’m not familiar with the area. Where do you recommend?”

Edward gave him the names of a couple of restaurants in Newcastle. “There’s nowhere here, of course. It’s too small.”

“Thank you,” said Hall, and took a sip of his tea. He glanced towards the door to the corridor, watching for Julia.

“I hope you’ll permit me to congratulate you,” said Edward, retreating into formality. “You’re a lucky man.” He surprised himself with the stab of envy that accompanied the words. God, Hanne Graves had better be wrong. This man had better be worthy of Julia.

Hall looked towards Julia’s desk, where the covered typewriter sat. “Thank you,” he said. “I am. Ran into her on the Old Kent Road one day and it turned out she was just what I was looking for. Very capable, you know. Sensible sort of girl.”

Edward put down his cup of tea, keeping his face out of view, afraid he would betray himself by his reaction. Sensible? Julia, who turned pale at the sight of the bomb crater out in the grounds and tricked him into dancing in the records room? 

“As you say,” Hall continued, happily oblivious, “I am a very lucky fellow.”

Edward pushed his cup and saucer away. He hadn’t really wanted it anyway. He’d only just had one, but keeping Hall company had seemed the polite thing to do. “You are,” he agreed, at his most bland.

“I’ll be glad when it’s done,” said Hall. “I wasn’t entirely happy about this business – bit too far away, you know? No offence, of course, Iveson.”

“No,” murmured Edward, pushing a folder aside and sitting on the edge of the desk.

“Not that there’s much left to do, really. It’ll be a small affair at the Register Office. No fuss.”

Edward’s jaw tightened. He had never met anyone he’d disliked so much so swiftly and with less reason. It was unfair of him, but he didn’t blame Hanne Graves for her reaction now. His hand clenched into a fist instinctively.

“I wish,” Hall went on, “that it could be a larger business, but no fuss was the one thing Julia was adamant about. I suppose anything on a grander scale would have been hard to manage with things as they are. No doubt it’s all for the best, eh?”

Some of Edward’s irritation faded into mere awkwardness. Of course Julia’s fiancé knew more about her wishes and her situation than he did. Hall wasn’t being shabby; he was only respecting those wishes. He shouldn’t make hasty assumptions. 

“Edward – Mr Iveson – there you are!” said Julia, bursting in and walking straight past Hall to pass the folder over. “I wish you joy of it. I, on the other hand, have my fiancé to meet, because I know how to have time off, unlike some people.”

Edward nodded behind her. “Miss Graves.”

“Oh!” said Julia, turning. “Oh, George! How are you here already? Did I get the time wrong?” She looked down at her hands. “I’m so dirty – I think I’ve picked up every bit of dust in the archives. Can you wait while I wash?”

George laughed and leant forward to kiss her on the cheek, careful to avoid her grubby grasp. “Of course, my dear. There’s no rush.”

Hall and Edward watched her leave. Edward’s knuckles whitened as he hung onto the Yates file as if it was a national secret, and he said, “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“Of course. Pleasure to meet you,” said Hall. “Thank you for the tea. It was a long journey up – although better than in the war, I suppose. I’m not sure I’d have risked it.”

“Not even for your fiancée?” said Edward, hovering in the doorway. It was an unfair comment. A wartime journey from south to north could have taken days if one had been particularly unlucky. Edward had had difficult enough trips to Kent, let alone the other end of the country.

Hall merely laughed, and Edward removed himself into his office before he said anything he might regret.

“I’m off now, Iveson,” said North, pushing the door open and leaning in a few minutes later.

Edward, his mind half in the papers he was reading, looked up briefly and gave a nod.

“Who was that I passed in the corridor?”

Edward dragged himself reluctantly into the here and now, putting a hand up to his head, feeling weary. It seemed to have been a very long morning. “Oh, Mr Hall, I imagine. Julia’s fiancé.”

“Something wrong?”

Edward shook his head. “No. I could wish I liked him better, but that’s none of my business.”

“Somehow,” said North, “I doubt you’d much care for anyone who had the temerity to be engaged to our Miss Graves.” He gave Edward a wink before disappearing through the door.

Edward put down his pencil, glaring at the space where North had been. Whatever he might or might not be feeling, he was pretty certain he had done nothing to justify that crack from North. If his hackles rose when Hall talked about Julia as if she were a bargain item he’d found in a bric-a-brac shop, that was hardly unreasonable. He’d promised her mother he’d be a friend to her, that was all.

The memory of their brief, awkward dance returned to him and weighed on his conscience. “That was nothing to speak of,” he said aloud, as if to some unseen counsel for the prosecution. “And I could hardly sit here and fail to notice her.”

He started at the sound of a cough from the doorway.

“You all right, Mr Iveson?” asked Hanley, the caretaker. “Only I was checking you weren’t likely to be going elsewhere on the site before I checked the sheds is all locked up.”

Edward cleared his throat. “Er. Yes, thank you, Hanley. Mr North has gone, and I’m tied up here, so please do.”

The next morning was fine; bright and cold with an unbroken blue sky. Edward, up early, went for a stroll across the fields before church, only to find his enjoyment of the countryside interrupted when he spied George Hall walking down the footpath towards him. Edward grimaced while safely distant and then schooled himself to smile and nod as Hall approached him.

“Morning. Not on your way home already, surely?” said Edward, tipping his hat to Hall.

“No, no. After lunch. I like a morning constitutional – as do you, I see.”

Edward nodded, beginning to move on, when Hall changed direction, and fell into step beside him.

“I’m glad to find you here – I wanted to speak to you again,” said Hall. “It’s somewhat awkward, but I thought I should say – my arrangement with Julia may be primarily pragmatic, but nevertheless –”

Edward turned his head sharply and cut in, not wanting to hear any more. “Mr Hall. I am merely Miss Graves’s current employer. Whatever your relationship may be or may not be has nothing to do with me. It’s not a proper subject for conversation between us, is it?”

“Of course, of course,” said Hall. “I didn’t mean to imply anything. But, you know, if there were any of the sort of fellows around here who might jump to conclusions about that, I’m sure you’d put them right, wouldn’t you?”

Edward’s annoyance deepened into burning anger. He would have liked to stride on and leave Hall behind without answering, but rudeness wouldn’t help. He mustered up a coldly civil tone, but his fingers itched with the urge to physically push the other away, or maybe even hit him. 

“If there were any such fellows, I wouldn’t know, and I’d think you could count on Miss Graves to deal with them. If you can’t, well, that is something you must take up with her, not me. I’m fairly sure she’d think it a damned cheek if I tried. Now excuse me, I don’t want to be late for the morning service.”

Edward hardly heard a word of the Reverend Braithwaite’s sermon. He stared at the backs of the people sitting in the pew in front of him, shoulders tense as he tried to focus on the hymns and the prayers instead of George Hall’s odd conversation.

He was relieved to finally re-emerge into the precarious May sunshine, barely remembering to shake Braithwaite’s hand before he left, and he walked straight past his sister, without any idea of whether or not he had nodded in greeting to her.

“Damn him,” he muttered under his breath. It _wasn’t_ any of his business, but he didn’t blame Mrs Graves for disliking the man now. He’d been warned off, and worse, slyly. It set his teeth on edge. Edward clenched his fist at the memory, his anger disproportionate to the incident. 

The oddest thing was that Hall had shown no signs of possessiveness or animosity yesterday in the office, so why suddenly, chancing on him this morning, had he felt the need to tell him to back off? 

Had Julia said something in the meantime that had altered Hall’s outlook? Edward’s heart gave a treacherous, hopeful leap. Perhaps she had talked of having lunch in Durham, or dancing, or meetings she’d accompanied him to in Newcastle. All entirely innocent, of course, but it might not sound so to Hall.

Edward halted outside the churchyard and leant against the stone wall, shaking his head at himself. There was no call to get excited: Julia telling such things to Hall – if she had – would only be a measure of exactly how innocuous she thought them.

He couldn’t truly pretend to himself any more that he didn’t feel an interest in Julia. If Hall made similar remarks to her and she packed him back off to town with a flea in his ear, Edward would be every bit as delighted as Hanne Graves, whether or not he stood a chance himself.

Thinking of Mrs Graves caused him to frown. She had been so determined to have Julia consider someone else instead of Hall. She must have had some reason beyond preferring Edward. She would never have gone over to Kent and then all the way to Northumberland only for that. Hall must have done _something_ and, after that underhand exchange, Edward wondered. Something difficult to explain, because it sounded innocuous, but nevertheless made one’s hackles rise? He should have asked her at the time, but it had meant little to him then and, like his parents, he had merely shaken his head over Mrs Graves’s eccentric behaviour. Hanne always had been something of a law unto herself, as far as he could gather.

Edward shrugged. No point in speculating. He had to go down to London himself in a few days. He’d wire Mrs Graves and pay her a call while he was there. Regardless of any romantic complications, or lack of them, he’d become more entangled in the Graves’s affairs than he’d bargained for, so it was about time he found out what it was that had driven Hanne Graves to such extraordinary lengths.

Edward’s unsettled state had not abated by Monday morning, although he’d concluded he was probably making mountains out of molehills – seeing what he wanted to see. He was even more careful to keep his interactions with Julia brief and professional than he had been since the waltz incident. He might not like Hall, but he was Julia’s fiancé, and Edward mustn’t forget that. He couldn’t go about trying to break up her engagement without very good reason. 

His good resolutions, however, stood no chance against Julia. Edward headed down to the archive room in search of a box of files and found the door open. He strode in too quickly and Julia, failing to note his arrival, at the same moment opened the filing cabinet door in front of him. Edward walked into it and staggered back, momentarily stunned.

“Heavens!” said Julia, leaping up and shutting the cabinet door. “Mr Iveson! I didn’t see you.”

Edward rubbed his sore head. “Evidently. I suppose I should have watched where I was going.”

“I think you should leave the archive to me,” said Julia. “It has it in for you.”

Edward sat down on an empty desk behind him. He put a hand up to his head again, gingerly touching the aching patch. “Strangely, that only seems to be the case when you’re here.”

“Hold on,” said Julia. She hurried away, returning presently with a sopping cloth, which she tried to press against his bruised head.

Edward instinctively flinched at her touch, raising his hand to try and take the cloth from her, cold water dripping down his arm and his collar. “Julia – Miss Graves – I’d rather you didn’t.”

“You don’t want a black eye,” she said, persisting, putting the cloth in place and then letting go as he took hold of it, her other hand briefly against his jaw with chilly, damp fingers. She was close enough him for him to feel her breath against his face, before she drew back and surveyed him, her forehead furrowing in concern. “Oh, dear. I did give you rather a nasty whack, didn’t I?”

Edward hung onto the cloth, water running down his cheek and neck. He closed his eyes, trying to tell himself that he didn’t, couldn’t, mustn’t, want her the way he apparently did. He didn’t find himself very convincing.

“Mr Iveson?”

He looked up and managed a perfunctory smile. “Yes, yes, I’m fine, thank you. It wasn’t that bad a knock and I’m not seeing double or anything. I can even remember exactly which box I came in here for. I shall live, you needn’t fear.”

It was almost a shock to find London still there, much as he had left it, the familiar skyline peppered with holes where buildings had once stood. The weather was warmer now they were approaching the end of May, but it was not much less grey than it had been when he’d left, despite the absence of snow and ice.

He spent his first afternoon dealing with Terrex’s financial affairs, and the following day he had a long and tedious board meeting concerning the stationery company he’d told Julia about at Durham. Attending in place of his father, with his mind full of Terrex’s loose ends (and Julia, if he was honest), it was interminable. He was hard pressed not to sigh and fidget like a schoolboy enduring a particularly dry maths lesson.

Finally free of obligations and with a morning to spare before he returned north, he took the Underground to Paddington to visit Hanne Graves.

“I’m so sorry,” said Mrs Graves, once she’d given him tea and fished out Rich Tea biscuits from a tin, placing them on the coffee table between them. Her hand was unsteady, the tin rattling slightly. “I should never have caused such trouble. It was very wrong of me, interfering in that way. I don’t know if Julia will ever forgive me – and how can I blame her?”

Edward picked up his cup and saucer. Given what he wanted to ask Mrs Graves about Hall, that wasn’t the most promising start. “I’m sure she will,” he said. “She told me she doesn’t want to be at odds with you again.”

“ _Did_ she say that? Truly?” Hanne put her cup down on the table and leant forward.

Edward nodded, a photograph on the wall of Christy, Julia, and Rudy in happier times, catching his eye. It wasn’t the only one: there were any number of photographs scattered about the mantelpiece and occasional tables, mostly of Julia’s dead brothers. Impossible to forget them here.

“Of course,” he said, and after a moment of hesitation, used the opening she had provided with her question. “Mrs Graves, forgive me, but is there some reason you thought otherwise? Mr Hall didn’t say anything like that to you, did he?”

Mrs Graves lifted her head, neat grey curls shifting against her neck. “Not precisely that, but he did imply –” She swallowed. “I thought perhaps Julia wanted to see less of me.”

“Hmm,” said Edward. He reached for a biscuit, which crumbled alarmingly when he took a bite. “Is that what worried you?” he managed, once he’d swallowed his mouthful and caught most of the crumbs in his saucer.

She blinked and gazed past Edward. “I don’t know. Perhaps. That and the business with the daughter.”

“Hall’s daughter?” said Edward, taken aback. He had forgotten there was a daughter in the equation.

“Yes. You know Julia has only met her once. I can’t think that’s sensible, can you?”

Edward had to admit that he didn’t think it was in the least bit sensible.

“But after Christy and Rudy – well, you know what happened.” Hanne sighed. “I don’t want things to be like that again. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Edward murmured assent, stirring his tea, and tried to avoid staring at the photograph on the wall opposite.

“It didn’t bring us closer together. I was staying with a friend in Devon and she was here in London. I didn’t know what to do with myself, let alone poor Julia, so when she stopped writing or calling, I let it be. It took far too long to mend our bridges. So silly, when I could have lost her, too.” Mrs Graves gave a minute shiver. “But at the time – well, she was alive, and the other two weren’t. My poor Julia. And, after all, it is a sensible suggestion for me to go back to Combe St Mary – London isn’t the healthiest place.”

Edward lowered his cup. “Julia said that, you mean – or Hall?”

“Mr Hall, but I didn’t know, if perhaps it had been Julia’s idea. But, Ned, I have so many friends in town, and I would prefer to be with people here while I still can. Now that Lionel and I have come to a truce – my husband’s brother, you remember, don’t you? – he sees to the financial side of things, so it’s not as if it’s an expense for Julia.”

Hall might not know that. Either that, or he merely wanted to discourage the connection with his mother-in-law. Maybe Hanne didn’t fit into his conventional world-view or, worse, he’d rather have Julia safely isolated from her old life. Edward glanced downwards into the depths of his tea. He had no reason to suspect the worst and he hardly wanted to cause more family trouble. He straightened himself – time to stop plotting out a trashy murder novel and start addressing reality. 

“That certainly didn’t come from Julia,” he said. That at least was true, and not coloured by his inconvenient feelings. “She said quite the reverse to me only the other day, I promise.”

Mrs Graves put down her empty cup and smiled. “I’m very pleased to hear it. I haven’t been so well lately, and I wouldn’t want my foolishness to – well, never mind that now.”

“No,” said Edward, placing his cup on the table. He wished he hadn’t come, uncomfortable with interfering in private matters, and all because he had quite absurdly hoped for evidence of Hall as an out-and-out villain. He retreated into distant politeness. “I’m sorry to hear you’ve been not been well.” 

Mrs Graves rose with him and held out her hand. “It’s nothing serious,” she said hastily. “I wouldn’t have you worrying poor Julia.”

“I won’t,” he said, and bent down to kiss her cheek, clasping her hand briefly as he did so. He knew from his mother’s letters that she was concerned about Hanne, too, so he wasn’t sure her denial was worth much. He drew back with a careful smile – and a nod, as she asked if he would take a letter she’d been writing to Julia and unsure of sending. “I promised I’d stand friend to her, and I will.”

Mrs Graves studied his face. She laid a delicate hand on his wrist. “Ned, dear,” she said in a low tone, “ought I to apologise to you?”

“Whatever for?” said Edward too brightly and held her gaze until she drew back. He could hardly admit to having any feelings for Julia. Mrs Graves might start her crusade again and then Julia would probably never speak to him again.

He waited while Mrs Graves went to find the letter, casting a surreptitious look at the clock on the wall, mindful of his train. When she returned and handed the envelope over, he tucked it into his breast pocket and, after one last press of her hand, made his way out of the flat and back down to the road. 

All he’d learned was that he may or may not be right in his suspicions, that the odds weren’t in his favour – and that Julia might have more loss in store for her sooner rather than later. And none of it was his business. _Enough_ , he told himself. He’d promised Hanne he’d be a friend to Julia, and he would. There must be no more of this selfish, idle dreaming. She had been engaged to Hall long before they met, and to interfere was out of the question. It would be so much easier to do, though, if she actually loved Hall – and more importantly, if _he_ loved her.

Edward shoved his hat onto his head with unwonted violence and set off at a pace down the street. He did not look back.


	4. Chapter Three

Julia ambled down the lane, in no hurry to return to Mrs Donnelly’s. She let out a sigh and pulled off her head scarf as she sat down on the dry stone wall. It was not the same at Terrex with Mr Iveson away. Mr. North didn’t want her to take dictation or make telephone calls and never came hurrying into the outer office, suddenly alight with an idea of how to hasten the work along. There was no chance of a trip into Newcastle or Sunderland for a meeting and all her usual business kept coming to awkward stops because something needed Mr Iveson’s approval or signature. 

She shook herself. The sun was out and if hurried, she could change and go for a walk along the sea front before the light started to fade. There was, for a wonder, actual warmth in the sunshine. She should make the most of it. This might be as good as it got here in the wilds of the north.

As she dragged herself up and pocketed her headscarf, she caught sight of a figure walking in the other direction, coming from the train station: a man, tall and thin, with his overcoat draped over one arm and a small case in the other hand. Julia stopped where she was, not needing a second glance to be sure of his identity. Her dull mood evaporated immediately, and she ran to intercept him.

“Mr Iveson,” she said breathlessly, stopping in front of him as they both neared the turning towards their respective lodgings. “Mr Iveson. I’m glad to see you! It’s been far too quiet at Terrex. I thought I was going to finish all the archive boxes before you got back.”

Edward, seemingly, had not registered her approach previously, blinking for a moment as he registered her presence before he relaxed into a grin. “Miss Graves.”

Julia shifted back and perched on the wall, waiting for him to join her. He did so only slowly, sitting down with a long exhale of breath. He removed his hat, placing it beside him as he raised his face to meet the breeze.

“Was the train late?” asked Julia. “I expect it was stifling, too.”

Edward nodded. “Pretty much.”

“Poor you,” she said and gave his arm a light punch, but he didn’t take any notice, fumbling in his jacket pockets suddenly.

He turned, a letter in his hand. “For you,” he said. “Before I forget. I called in on your mother and she asked me if I’d pass it on.”

Julia closed her fingers around it and then stuffed it into her coat pocket, unwilling to read it yet, certainly not in front of him. “Thank you. Although I do hope she wasn’t trying to get you to marry me again.”

Beside her, Edward stiffened. “No. I assure you, it was nothing like that. I’ve been in the habit of calling on her if I have the time when I’ve business in town. Mother used to ask me to.”

“Gosh, you are tired, aren’t you?” she said and gave him a closer look. “Smutty, too, you know. You need to wash your face. And I wasn’t being serious. She _wasn’t_ , was she?”

He shook his head. “She apologised. That was all.” Then he straightened, something of his weariness seeming to lift, and he gave her a sharp glance. “Besides, never mind soot, you’re rather dusty yourself. Take a look in the mirror before you start insulting me.”

“I told you I wound up spending all my time in the archives,” said Julia, rubbing her arm over her face in a way that, judging by his wince, did not help the matter.

She opened the letter only much later, after she’d gone up to her room; sitting close to the window on the bed, making use of the remaining light to read it. She tensed, not wary of more complaints about poor George, or further suggestions that she should marry Edward instead, if she must make a marriage of convenience. Edward simply _wasn’t_ convenient, that was the trouble. He was terribly awkward and quite lovely and not at all suitable for Julia’s purposes. 

She skimmed the letter and relaxed. It was mostly apology – and quite right, too! A person should be able to take it for granted that her mother wouldn’t wander about the country making marriage proposals to strangers on her behalf.

Julia pulled out her notebook to draft a reply. She couldn’t be angry with Mother forever, even if she had been so outrageous in her opposition to her engagement. She’d said sorry now and that was all Julia needed.

Julia woke at first light, her face buried in the mattress, one arm clutching her feather pillow and the rest of her tangled in the bedclothes. She turned over and opened her eyes, still half lost in the usual horrid nightmare and concentrating on breathing properly. She had the vague, unsettled feeling that Edward Iveson had been in the dream again; dead somewhere close by.

She swallowed and closed her eyes, breathing in and out, and trying to think of better things. She pictured favourite party food from long ago – lemonade and angel cake and meringues; macaroons and scones and butter and jam, and currant buns, too. She blinked away tears. She didn’t have enough clean hankies left for indulging in more self-pity.

Broken sleep did nothing for her temper, which was already fraying at the edges by the time she reached the office. Having Mr Iveson back was suddenly no improvement at all. He was on the telephone when she wanted his signature, and when she was busy sorting through the mail, he interrupted her with demands for her take dictation.

She arrived with a notebook and sat down on the chair next to the desk; pencil at the ready. “Well?”

“Good morning, Julia,” said Edward, with a raise of his eyebrows. Then he bent down to pick up something from the cluttered desk top before passing it over. “A letter from your fiancé, I think?”

Julia snatched it back. “Yes, and what of it?”

“Nothing.” Edward took a step back and then beat a relieved retreat to sit behind his desk.

“You made a face. I saw you. You don’t like him, either, do you? Is that what you and my mother talked about the other day – how much you hate poor George?”

It was nothing but irrational grouchiness on her part, but Edward lost his grip on the fountain pen he’d been in the middle of reaching for and turned to look at her, blinking, before he said, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You _did_. You honestly did!” Julia raised her chin. “Well, and why, that’s what I should like to know!”

She expected Edward to remind her that she was supposed to be taking down a letter, but he pushed the pen aside and eyed her soberly. He twisted his fingers together. “Did you know he’d been making suggestions to her about retiring to Devon, out of the way?”

“No, but I don’t see why that should bother you,” said Julia. “He doesn’t know Mother well yet – what can you expect when she’s taken such a silly dislike to him? He isn’t to know she’d hate all that peace and quiet, poor darling.”

“Julia –”

She narrowed her gaze. “Oh, you think it was a devious ploy? I suppose _you_ would think that. I suppose you have to have that kind of underhand mind to do all that hush-hush stuff. George isn’t subtle. It’s one of the things I like about him.”

Edward’s frown deepened. “He also – he rather warned me off, too, you know.”

“He did what?” said Julia, uncomprehending for a moment. “Warned you off seeing my mother? From living in London?”

Edward looked back at her.

“Oh,” said Julia, and put her hand to her mouth as understanding dawned. “ _Did_ he? How unaccountable men are. How could he imagine he had anything to worry about from _you_? I certainly didn’t say anything to give him that impression.”

She had the satisfaction of seeing Edward almost give way to a flash of temper: his blue eyes darkened and his lips compressed, but he said nothing. Then he stood, and looked down at her. “Forget dictation – I’m going to speak to Hanley about that crater again. We’ll finish this discussion when I get back.”

Julia watched him go, and smiled, a brief, savage sense of triumph filling her, before the sudden silence of the empty office closed in, and it all seemed terribly pointless.

“Julia,” said Edward, catching her in the doorway to the outer office. He’d evidently only returned from talking to Hanley mere moments ago; his hair was still untidy from the sharp breeze outside. “Will you come with me? I want to apologise – and then we do have work to do, if you will.”

Julia followed, her shoulders tensing. She shouldn’t have been unkind, no matter how annoying he’d been. It wasn’t fair, and the worst was, she had no idea what she’d do if she had actually provoked him into any sort of declaration.

“No need,” she said. “I must have got out of bed on the wrong side this morning.”

Edward ushered her into his office and as he shut the door behind him, he shook his head. “No. You should be angry. It’s your life – your business. I have no right to interfere. I’m sorry. I suppose I’m somewhat biased on the subject of marriage.”

“No, no,” said Julia. Her mouth dried. She did not want him talking about his feelings. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him, or worse still, do something even more foolish like yield to his persuasions. It would ruin everything.

“My own marriage was such a disaster,” he said as he crossed back to the desk. “I suppose I tend to think the worst when it comes to other people’s. And you are right about Hall – I have allowed my judgement to be coloured by your mother’s dislike.”

Julia sat in the chair again, glad of the excuse of the action to hide her face from him. She was relieved, of course. The sudden dip in her mood wasn’t disappointment. She pulled out her notebook; her fingers unsteady as she fished in her pocket for her pencil. She lifted her head.

“What did happen with your marriage?” She vaguely recalled her mother talking about it, but it had been years ago, when she’d still been at school. Hazy memories suggested that Mother had called him Poor Ned and said the marriage had only lasted a month, but that surely couldn’t be right, could it?

Edward started in the act of lowering himself into his chair; kicking its legs and then sitting down too heavily. He leant forward onto the desk, weariness falling over him.

“I’m sorry,” said Julia. “Now I’m the one interfering. It’s just hard to imagine – you being you – it really being _that_ much of a disaster.” She waved her hand vaguely.

“It turned out,” said Edward, “that Caroline was in love with someone else when she married me. It was an insurmountable obstacle and we divorced as soon as it became possible.”

Julia wrote today’s date in her notebook and underlined it twice, before glancing over at him. Her fear that he might be falling in love with her now seemed foolish. He was older than her, after all. Perhaps he thought her amusing at times, tiresome at others – only the daughter of a family friend to whom he had decided to be kind. Maybe he’d never got over Caroline.

“So,” he finished, “I feel one ought to be careful.”

Julia tapped her pencil against the paper. “Well, my case is entirely different. Neither George nor I are under any illusion about each other’s feelings, so there will be none of that sort of fuss.”

“You’re so sure,” said Edward, giving her an unfairly pitying look, “that you won’t fall in love with anyone?”

Julia shrugged. “I haven’t yet.” She had to look away again, wondering for the first time if that might be a lie. But, no. Of course it wasn’t. 

“By the way,” he added, “is it true what your mother says – that you’ve only met Hall’s daughter once.”

Julia’s cheeks heated. “She’s thirteen. She’s away at school a lot. And it’s one and a half times, actually.”

“Half?”

Julia glared. “I shall be an excellent stepmother! And you needn’t worry – it’s not your business, remember?”

“Yes, sorry,” he said. “I’m, er, sure you will. Where were we?”

Julia picked up her pencil. “You were about to start dictating again. A letter, wasn’t it?” She took a breath and added, before he could reply, “Anyway, if you’re so keen on people marrying the right people, you should get on and find someone else yourself. If they’ve got a child, you can meet them a dozen times first. I expect you’d need the practice for getting on with them. How about that?”

“Easier said than done,” said Edward, with a wry twist to his mouth. “Let’s not argue again. Julia, that letter –”

She leant forward. “You’re surely not still in love with – with Caroline, not after all this time!”

“Julia!” said Edward and then put a hand to his head. “No, of course not. Good God.”

“Sorry. But you seem all right to me, so either you’ve got some nasty habits or –”

“It’s not that there wasn’t ever anyone else,” he said, drawing himself up in his chair, his tone as stiff as his posture. “It simply never worked out. There was someone in the war – oh, it’s not worth going into.”

Julia felt abruptly like a beast for poking her nose in. “I am sorry.” His words echoed in her head, dividing her from him: _There was someone in the war…_ It was a good thing, obviously, if he didn’t have any inconvenient feelings for her, but the idea that actually she didn’t matter that much to him at all left her inexplicably bereft.

Julia was typing up meeting minutes, frowning over them as she hit the keys, when North and Mr Iveson walked out of his office.

“It’s not obligatory, is it?” North was saying. “Avoid affairs like that like the devil. Not my sort of thing. I’d only offend the vicar’s wife.”

Julia had no idea what was being discussed, but she put in helpfully, “Mr Braithwaite hasn’t got a wife. Only a sister. But I’m pretty sure she’d disapprove of you anyway. Disapproving of things seems to be her mission in life.”

“It’s a da – ah – cursed fête,” said North, turning towards Julia. “Iveson thinks we should go.”

Julia glanced at Edward.

“I’ve been invited to the Laytons’ annual fête up at Moreby Hall,” he said, pulling the card out of his pocket. “At least, that is to say, I’ve been asked to help with the judging and prize-giving, and the invitation includes any other members of staff. I thought showing up might do something for the firm’s reputation, but, no, North, it’s not obligatory. Probably a lost cause at this point in any case.”

Julia let her other concerns fall away as she contemplated the prospect of a fête on the estate of the local grandees. “Oh, gosh,” she said. “I think they’ve got a home farm, and I don’t think they’re short of cash. There ought to be some decent food. Maybe strawberries and cream!”

“I know where to get things when I want without wandering around in the mud fending off feuding gardeners, screaming brats, and runaway sheep,” said North. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He gave Edward a dark look. “You’ll have to admire people’s marrows and chrysanthemums. For the love of God, don’t do it.”

Julia caught the glint in Edward’s eyes as he bit back amusement. 

“I suspect I shall manage. And Miss Graves will be perfectly welcome to turn up and eat. Although, Julia, I shouldn’t count on that kind of fare.”

“I can dream,” she said. “I’ll be there, ready to appreciate whatever they _do_ have!”

“George,” said Julia breathlessly as she picked up the telephone receiver in the hall. She’d come tearing down the stairs two at time when Mrs Donnelly had called for her. “Darling, hello. How good to hear from you.”

Her world steadied as she listened to him talk about his mother and his daughter and the arrangements he’d been making for the wedding. London, George, her impending marriage – those were the real things. Edward and her stay here were only a side step out of her proper path. Everything would soon be restored to normal. No more dreams, no more nightmares.

“You will still be coming back the following weekend, won’t you?” he said. “There are details we need to discuss.”

Julia leant against the textured wallpaper, twisting the phone cord idly around her fingers. “Yes, of course. We might even be finished before, but Mr Iveson will honour our original agreement, whatever happens. If he didn’t, I could walk out anyway! It’s not as if I need a reference to marry you.”

“Good, good,” he said. And then with heavy-handed humour: “Although I do have high standards for housekeepers. Oh, and I meant to say before, but Mother wants to see you again. Pass on some recipes and all that.”

Julia liked the sound of that less, but it would be helpful to know how to cook or arrange meals that George and his daughter enjoyed rather than uncomfortable trial and error. “How kind of her.” Edward’s words came back to her; how he’d tried to imply something underhand about George and, guiltily, she added, “Speaking of mothers, I know mine has been impossible lately, but I would like to see if we can mend our bridges. She usually is very nice, I promise.”

“Of course,” said George easily, and without any sound of any reluctance. “I shall try my best. Is she still thinking of moving to Devon?”

Julia closed her hand around the cord. It honestly _wasn’t_ sinister – all it showed was that Mr Iveson had a worryingly suspicious sort of mind, but she wished George had been much better had proving him wrong. “Oh, no. She goes there for a few weeks in the summer, that’s all. She’d probably pine away and die if she had to leave London.”

“I thought – her health – I must have misunderstood.”

Julia shut her eyes. She wasn’t blind to the fact that her mother wasn’t well (whatever Mother thought she could keep from her), but she didn’t want to say it out loud, to make it be real. It was unbearable. She swallowed. “I know, but that’s how she is.”

George carried on talking about his business, which was apparently going well, and Julia told him about the fête, and her hopes regarding the food.

He laughed. “Good luck, then.”

“I’m going with Mr Iveson,” she said, the devil in her, after the way he’d failed to prove her right about him and Mother. “Mr North was invited too, but he says wild horses wouldn’t drag him near such a thing.”

“I hope you have fun,” said George, coming through splendidly this time. 

Oddly, Julia only felt even more disappointed about that.

Julia tugged her summer frock straight and then pulled a grimace at the battered mirror hanging on the wall. This was the best dress she owned that wasn’t too fine for a country fête, but she had worn it thin and given it two discreet darns already. Still, most other people would be in the same boat, so she shrugged off a passing wish she could be smarter, and gave her hair, tucked back into a hairnet, one last glance before turning away with a satisfied nod. Time to go.

The sun warmed her back as she walked down the lane alone, trailing several villagers who were obviously heading in the same direction, all dressed in their holiday clothes. Edward had asked her if she wanted him to call for her, but even if she hadn’t been trying to be more careful with regards to him, she hadn’t wanted to wait around while he judged marrows, or whatever it was he had been lumbered with. Julia was going to go and have fun, and her heart was set on the refreshments tent.

Julia sat down on the nearest bale of hay, heedless of the way it prickled through her dress, and set to work on a small bowl of strawberries and cream. The refreshments tent had indeed held some good things, if carefully guarded by stern village matrons, and she was determined to savour every spoonful while she watched the country dancing.

“Julia,” said Edward from somewhere beside her as she carefully licked her spoon, lost in the pleasure of unaccustomed cream.

She started violently and dropped the spoon, losing it in the mud and straw on the ground.

“I think you may have missed a spot,” Edward added, nodding towards her bowl. “Perhaps you should lick that as well.”

Julia placed it beside her on the hay. “Beast,” she said, but without any heat. She was having far too nice a time to let him spoil it. She patted the bale on the other side of her, gesturing for him to perch himself there. “Have you seen the refreshments tent? They had,” she lowered her voice in wonder, “jam sponge. But I had my heart set on strawberries and cream.”

“That’s what I’m looking for,” he said, remaining standing. “The refreshments tent, that is, not cake. Which way is it?”

“Oh, dear, have they been working you hard at studying marrows? How does one evaluate their virtues?”

Edward hesitated, as if failing to find the right answer. He sat down next to her. “You are an obnoxious young lady. No marrows. Lots of root vegetables.” He paused. “Roses. Other things. It’s quite interesting, actually.”

“Only you would enjoy looking at a lot of oversized potatoes,” she said. “But then you’re excited about working in stationery.”

He frowned at her, and then gave up on a retort again. “As I said, you are an obnoxious young lady. Where can I find tea – coffee?”

Julia narrowed her gaze, noting the way he had been moving and speaking with such an exaggerated carefulness, and the smell on his breath. “Edward! You aren’t drunk, are you? At the prize-giving? This isn’t a Wodehouse novel, you know.”

“I’m not, thank you,” said Edward. “Not exactly. Just don’t have any of the vicar’s sister’s home made blackcurrant wine. It’s lethal.”

Julia put her hand to his arm, fighting giggles. “Someone did try to ply me with a glass, but I was warned off in time. Why on earth did you drink it? I’d have let the root vegetables have it.”

“I was with Reverend Braithwaite, Lady Moreby, and two councillors,” said Edward. “It seemed – politic.”

Julia rose. “You can’t be that bad if you can manage to say ‘politic’ without getting into trouble. But stay there, I’ll nip over and fetch you some tea. If you get all the marks muddled, it won’t do anything for your reputation and all that staring at turnips and radishes will be for nothing.”

“Not for nothing,” he said, gesturing towards her empty bowl. “You did get strawberries and cream.”

Julia made her way back with a cup of tea, only to find that Edward had not stayed where she had left him.

“Honestly,” she muttered, looking around for him. She didn’t approve of people vanishing. What was more, she’d had to beg permission to take the tea cup out of the tent by explaining that it was necessary to avert disaster because one of the judges had had too much of Miss Braithwaite’s home made wine, so it wasn’t as if her mission had been easy. Edward might not appreciate the slight exaggerations she had made in order to win that battle, but it had all been in a good cause and hopefully he would never have to know.

She spotted him, then, evidently having been drawn into the country dancing. She stopped, watching him form part of a circle, arms cross-linked with a girl she vaguely recognised from around the village. Julia tightened her hold on the cup in anger at the sight. _She_ might not be free to have Edward Iveson but that didn’t give someone else the right to dosey-doe in and swipe him from under her nose. 

Julia stepped forward in instinctive indignation. It would be so easy to move nearer and pull him away in such a way that would give entirely the wrong impression to his partner while leaving Edward none the wiser. She was halfway over before she halted beside a row of folding wooden chairs and checked herself.

“Good heavens, Julia. None of that,” she said under her breath, to the evident bemusement of an elderly man on her right, who turned his head, and then shook it at her. She waited until Edward finally looked her way in the course of the dance and gave a wave and pointed at the tea, which she put down on the nearest empty chair. When Edward headed over to collect it, she walked hastily away, heading out of the centre of the fête towards the shelter of a copse at the furthest side of the field.

Once out of sight, she leant against a tree and struggled not to cry. She had become engaged to George for very good reasons and she wasn’t, couldn’t be, in love with Edward Iveson. There was no excuse for letting her possessive streak rise to the fore – it would be bad enough even if she had a claim on him, but as things stood, it was abominable behaviour. 

Julia was almost sure that Edward liked her and while that was unfortunate, part of her enjoyed the idea. It wasn’t that she wanted to break his heart or ruin his life, even if she could, but she wanted him to… Julia stopped, unsure what she _did_ want. For him to miss her – to mind awfully when she left? She would certainly miss their friendship. If it hadn’t been for George, she might have let herself fall into a foolish relationship of exactly the kind she didn’t want and couldn’t have.

“Thank goodness for George,” she said, raising her chin. She ignored the fact that she hadn’t banished her unhappiness or quashed the selfish wish to march back over and make sure that Edward didn’t dance with anyone but her. The worst thing was, she was absolutely sure that she _could_.

Julia spent the next hour being careful to avoid Edward as she explored the fête. It wasn’t hard. He seemed to have vanished, so presumably he was back with his roses and carrots again. She had planned to slink away and leave him to get on with it, but when somebody shouted through a loudspeaker that the prizes were about to be awarded, she couldn’t resist heading towards the judges tent, along with the rest of the crowd.

She kept to one side, carefully hidden beside a woman with a large hat that looked practically Edwardian, and was absurdly pleased to find that when Edward’s turn for announcing the winners came around, that he had a good, clear speaking voice and wasn’t alarmed by the crowd. She shouldn’t have been surprised. She knew by now that most of his awkwardness was mere camouflage.

“Miss Graves, isn’t it?” said someone, elbowing their way in beside her.

Julia turned. “Yes? Oh, hello, Miss Braithwaite.” She had been introduced to the vicar’s sister on her first week here and been treated to a lecture about London ways and people closing down businesses unnecessarily among other things. Julia had immediately vowed to avoid church for the rest of the time she was here. She wasn’t at all surprised the woman made wine that was nearly as poisonous as she was.

“I must say, your Mr Iveson hasn’t handled this too badly – although I cannot think how Mrs Ormesby’s roses won.”

Julia nodded. It seemed the safest course of action. Miss Braithwaite coming over to pass on a compliment seemed unlikely, but perhaps she had misjudged her. Perhaps she had only met her at a bad time on that first Sunday.

“I hear you are to be congratulated,” Miss Braithwaite continued.

Julia twisted the ring on her finger, unsure how to respond.

“Although, I feel I must say something –”

Oh ho. Here it came. Julia lifted her head and hoped she had managed to hide her instant annoyance. She had not misjudged Miss Braithwaite. The compliment had been the prelude to more venom. Although if the local vicar’s sister somehow disapproved of George without even meeting him, she was going to have to speak sternly to her mother about the unfairness of orchestrating a country-wide conspiracy against a person’s perfectly reasonable fiancé.

“He is in general an unexceptional young man, I will allow, but nevertheless, he is _divorced_.” Miss Braithwaite lowered her voice in order to utter the dreaded word. “Have you considered that your union cannot be blessed by the church?”

Julia blinked, and was about to explain to Miss Braithwaite that George was a widower when the mistake other woman had made dawned on her, robbing her of breath. Disapproving of George was one thing, but disapproving of Edward was simply absurd.

“I made enquiries,” Miss Braithwaite added in a softer tone, evidently taking Julia’s silence as encouragement, “and he was _not_ the innocent party.”

Julia drew herself up, as she prepared to put the record straight – and the horrid woman in her place, too, if she could manage it. She had a good two inches on Miss Braithwaite, something that was highly satisfactory at this particular moment. “My fiancé is not –”

“Don’t think me unsympathetic,” said Miss Braithwaite, “but I did feel somebody should say something. My dear, I cannot think it fair of him to draw you into such an irregular relationship.”

“He didn’t draw me into anything,” said Julia, stiffening, and abandoning any attempt to correct the error in favour of giving her what she deserved. “It was entirely the other way around. I’m one of those terrible modern women you hear so much about these days. Edward did worry rather, but I told him it was nonsense. The register office is much better than church – so much less fuss! Besides, nobody really believes in those sorts of things any more – _so_ archaic and parochial! Certainly, Edward and I don’t. And even if it was any of your business, which is it isn’t, I should have thought you would rather he made an honest woman out of me than not.”

Miss Braithwaite drew in her breath and then first pale and turn bright pink before saying, “Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.” She walked away from Julia to find a better position to watch the last prizes being given out, bristling with outrage as she went.

Julia glared at her back, still seething. She had to walk away from the judging to find somewhere more open where she could breathe. Foul woman! How dared she say things like that about Edward? As if he was some sort of serial cad and adulterer, when nothing could be more untrue! She wished she’d snatched the revolting woman’s hat off and stamped on it.

As she began to calm down, it occurred to her belatedly that perhaps Edward might have preferred her to tell Miss Braithwaite that she was _not_ engaged to him instead of roundly offending her. Julia knew he usually attended the village church, so he might not appreciate her telling the vicar’s sister he was an out-and-out atheist, either. Or the way she’d implied that she’d seduced him into an affair.

“Oh, drat,” she said, halting beside a fence and sagging back against it in dismay. Why couldn’t she control her temper? Edward, she felt sure, would have found a way to correct the rotten woman with dignity and probably deliver a subtle insult at the same time, whereas she had to charge right at her like the proverbial bull, horns lowered for attack. Thank goodness neither of them were staying here much longer. But, honestly! What a vile thing to say! Julia frowned, wondering suddenly if Edward felt the same way; that he wasn’t really free. She could imagine it being the sort of silly principle he might get hung up on. She hoped not. She might not like the idea of him running off with somebody else in front of her, but he was much too nice to be left alone forever. 

Julia walked down the lane, headed back to Mrs Donnelly’s. Dusk was rapidly turning into night proper and with the lamps of the fête well behind her, the only illumination was a few torch lights bobbing about somewhere ahead, obscured at intervals by the twists of the lane. It reminded her uncomfortably of the blackout.

“Julia!”

She started at the sound of her name and swung around. Edward hurried up to her, switching on his torch as he met her, encircling them in a pool of its light. Everything outside it was lost to the dark.

Julia bit her lip. She hoped he wasn’t too angry. She had meant to explain what had happened and why she had told Miss Braithwaite they were engaged and how it was the kind of thing that might happen to anyone. When she hadn’t been able to find him, she had decided it was all for the best, and perhaps no one would ever tell him anyway, and she’d made her exit. Not swiftly enough, it appeared.

“Julia,” Edward said, out of breath as he slowed to fall into step beside her. “I thought I’d missed you. I brought you this.” He held out something wrapped carefully in a napkin in his free hand.

She lifted her head, her attempt at an apology abruptly forgotten. “Whatever is it?”

“Only one way to find out.”

She unfolded the napkin and found a slice of jam sponge within, a little on the crumbly side, but essentially undamaged. “Oh,” said Julia, understanding what they meant when they talked about people heaping burning coals on one’s head now. “Oh, Edward. You shouldn’t have! You have no idea what a beast I am or you wouldn’t.”

“Oh, believe me, I have a very good idea,” he said. “I had inkling after two elderly ladies accosted me before the prize-giving, both strangely anxious about whether or not I needed more coffee or tea. Later on, by the time I’d had to disabuse three people of the notion we were engaged, I knew I’d had it right at the start, and once I was onto the fifth, I was left in no doubt on the matter. You _are_ an obnoxious young lady.”

Julia bit her lip. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to cause trouble, but Miss Braithwaite was confused over who my fiancé was and I was going to put her straight, but she was so foul about you that I lost my temper.”

“I see,” he said, and she saw the amused quiver at the corner of his mouth. “Well, go on, take it, please.”

Julia shook her head. “You should have it.”

“I don’t care for jam sponge,” he said. “Can’t let it go to waste.”

Julia swallowed and told herself sternly that even she, shallow as she was sometimes, could not fall in love with a man just because he brought her cake, especially when he wasn’t even her fiancé. As Edward placed the napkin in her palm, her hand trembled and she looked away.

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble – to suggest anything,” she said incoherently, when he stepped back. She added, rather stupidly, “I’m engaged to George.”

Edward nodded; the amusement vanished from his face. “I know,” he said softly.

She closed her eyes momentarily. The cake in her hand was a light, prize-winning effort but it felt far heavier than it should, even if it almost certainly contained potato as well as flour. “Thank you.”

“Julia. I want to say now, when we’re not at work – and with the caveat that I know it’s none of my damn business – I think you deserve someone who thinks more of you than Hall seems to. But, since you’re set on him, I hope you are right, and I am wrong – and I wish you all the best.”

Julia found herself dangerously close to tears, but she managed to nod and smile and remain quite still and unmoved when he leant in to kiss her briefly on the cheek, despite a sudden, unwise urge to catch at his jacket and keep him there.

“I’ll see you again on Monday,” he said, putting his empty hand in his coat pocket as he backed away. “Please do _try_ not to tell anyone else I’m a drunk or that we’re engaged, or, God forbid, whatever else comes into your head next.”

Julia laughed, grateful for the cue to lighten the moment. “Scout’s honour. How on earth did you get the cake, by the way?”

“I was judging more than mere root vegetables,” said Edward, replacing his hat. “Including, as it turned out, baking.”

“Yes, but –”

“I can be quite persuasive,” said Edward, becoming almost as remote again as he had been months ago when they’d first started working together. “Sometimes,” he added on a more rueful note.

“You stole it?”

He grinned and tapped his nose. “Need to know, Miss Graves. Need to know!”

Julia walked back to Mrs Donnelly’s, full of mixed anticipation and guilt about the slice of cake, before it struck her that she probably should have warned Edward that if he went to church tomorrow the vicar might ask him if he was an atheist.

She did _not_ deserve cake. She sighed.

She was, however, damn well going to smuggle it into her room and eat it anyway. Not to do so would be a crime.


	5. Chapter Four

Julia finished typing up her last letter – perhaps her very last typed letter ever – and raised her head to scan the office. Her brow furrowed. Edward had not yet returned, and she was sure he’d gone out ages ago.

“Mr North,” she called over. He deigned to lower his newspaper, giving her a full view of his face and not merely the smoke rising from his pipe. “Did Mr Iveson come back while I was in the archive?”

He shook his head. “Why?”

Julia glanced up at the clock. Edward had gone to speak to Mr Hanley nearly an hour ago and he’d said nothing about leaving the premises. He didn’t have a meeting, she knew – she managed the diary. And it took less than twenty minutes to walk right round the whole site.

She stifled a sigh and leant her chin on her hands, elbows resting on the desk. Perhaps he was avoiding her. Saturday night had clearly been his personal farewell. These last three days he’d been punctiliously polite but remote, save a few moments where he’d forgotten himself and slipped into their usual easy banter. She understood why, but she wouldn’t have expected him to take it to such lengths on her last day.

“If he doesn’t come back in five minutes,” said Julia. “I’m going to look for him. I suppose it’s not out of the question that he could have had an accident or got trapped in one of the empty sheds.”

North raised an eyebrow. “Hanley would have noticed, I’m sure.” He adjusted his pipe in his mouth and raised the newspaper again.

“Well, I’ve got nothing else to do,” said Julia. North might think it was unlikely, but North hadn’t encountered her curse yet. She’d let herself get unwisely fond of Edward. Maybe that was enough to cause something to strike him down from on high. 

And while that did seem improbable even to her, at least it would get her out of the office.

* * *

Edward was currently standing in a hole, feeling foolish. He had given up shouting after ten minutes and since then had been waiting, listening out for one of the others coming this way. Hanley must be about his rounds somewhere and Julia and North would surely notice if he failed to return within an hour, so he merely had to be patient. That was easier said than done. Time passed slowly down here.

Edward had spotted the fencing around the bomb crater looking worryingly askew, and he’d walked over to check on it. When he’d reached it and given it a prod, the ground had given way beneath his feet and he’d slid down into the pit with a yell. He could probably have climbed out, but he didn’t want to risk destabilising the rest and bringing everything down on his head when one of the others could just fetch a ladder for him.

He unfolded his arms and checked his watch. It had been over forty minutes now. He cursed himself under his breath. The longer he waited, the more idiotic he felt, but equally, logic dictated that it would be even more stupid to try now when the odds of someone finding him were rising every minute.

Logic, however did not assuage his fear that nobody would notice, or think he had gone somewhere, or leave themselves and that he might wind up stuck in this damned crater for hours. At least he’d had lunch before he’d decided to throw himself in; there was that.

He paced about the small space available to him and then stopped, hearing footsteps across the gravel, some distance away. He yelled out, only ceasing when Julia’s head came into view over the edge.

“Edward! Are you hurt?”

“Oh, thank God,” he said. “And, no, no. Only my pride. Julia, can you please go tell Hanley to bring a ladder?”

Julia withdrew from sight, but only for a second before she slid down herself, bringing more earth and stones with her. The loose section of fencing swayed and groaned alarmingly and then finally gave way, hanging drunkenly over the edge, still attached to the rest.

“Julia!” Edward caught at her flailing hands and hauled her to feet. “What the hell were you thinking? I said fetch Hanley, not –” He cut himself short, catching her expression. She was unusually pale, looking past him towards the rubble, her gaze unfocused.

Edward kept hold of her lightly, his hands on her arms. “Julia,” he said again, more softly. She was staring past him and he felt her shaking under his hold. She looked up briefly, but only said something incoherent about a shoe.

“Julia,” he said again and, slowly, she looked at him directly, but only vaguely, as if puzzled to find him in front of her. “There’s nothing there – only earth and stones and old bricks.” He paused, frowning. “Do you understand me?”

She blinked and then, with delayed reaction, nodded.

“Good,” Edward said, and raised his head, hoping for sight of North or Hanley. Surely one or the other of them must be about, if they’d started looking for him? “You’re safe. We’ll be out of here soon, one way or the other. Nothing to worry about.”

Julia swallowed and nodded again, meeting his gaze as if she really saw him this time. She put out a hand to catch hold of his jacket. “You m-must – think me – a little idiot.”

“Not really worse than me managing to fall down here in the first place.”

“What the devil?” said a voice from above them.

Edward raised his head to see North, and breathed out in relief. He didn’t fancy trying to climb up the unstable sides and leave Julia down here in this state, nor waiting down here when she was so distressed. He might have wanted Julia Graves in his arms for months if he was honest, but not like this. “North,” he said. “For God’s sake, keep well back and fetch Hanley – or a ladder.”

As North ran off, Edward faced Julia. He kept hold of her lightly and he lifted one hand to brush hair back from her dirtied face. “You heard that?”

She gave another nod.

“We’ll be fine now,” he said. “Only a few minutes longer.”

Julia gripped the material of his sleeve. “Y-yes. I’m s-sorry. I d-didn’t mean –”

“No, no,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s get out of here first. Have some tea.” He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “I bet North has got some illicit whisky hidden somewhere if you need it.”

Julia gave an unsteady laugh. “I know where, too. He thinks I don’t, but I know everything about this place by now.”

“There we are then,” said Edward and stroked her arm. “How will we get along without you?”

Hanley arrived, shouting down at them to stand back. They both shuffled as far towards the opposite side as they could and he lowered down a wooden ladder. Edward, with his arm still around her, waited for Hanley to give them the nod. When he did, he murmured in her ear, “Go on – climb up. I’ll hold it steady for you and Hanley and North’ll have you at the top. You can do it.”

“I’m all right now,” she said instantly, even though it clearly wasn’t true. She stepped out of his hold and started up the ladder. Edward held it steady and carefully stared at the earth and stones in front of him, rather than glance upwards. When he felt her step off, he clambered up after her and Hanley helped him off and onto secure ground. Julia was sitting hunched up on the grass beside North, arms wrapped around her legs and her head down on her knees.

Edward dusted himself down. “Sorry,” he said to Hanley. “I went to check on it and made everything worse.”

“Not to worry,” said Hanley. “They’re finally coming to fill it in tomorrow – I’ve been on the telephone to them about it again. Typical, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” Edward agreed, and then glanced at North. The older man nodded towards Julia, who hadn’t moved. Edward took the two steps needed to reach her. “North, would you go on ahead and see about putting the kettle on? Miss Graves and I will be right behind you, and I think we could both use some tea.”

Edward crouched down beside Julia as North left while Hanley set about retrieving his ladder. She released her hold on her legs slowly and looked up at Edward, her face pale. She hadn’t stopped shivering. Edward shrugged off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She put up a hand to the collar to stop it slipping off, but barely seemed to register it or him otherwise. 

“Julia,” he said, kneeling. He’d already ruined his suit anyway. “What is it, darling? What’s wrong?”

She gave a short gasp and raised her head. Her shoulders lowered and she forced a wan smile as she pulled his jacket closer around her. “You must think I’m m-mad,” she said in a valiant attempt at sounding normal. “What a s-stupid thing to do. Jumping in like that.”

Edward patted her shoulder. “No, no,” he said. “It doesn’t matter now. Come on, I want some tea even if you don’t.”

Julia let him help her up and they walked back to the office block together, close enough for the sleeves of his jacket, hanging loose from her shoulders, to brush against his shirtsleeves as they went. 

“Thank you,” she said, not looking at him, and it unnerved him, seeing so unusually subdued. 

Edward shook his head and took her hand in his. “Let’s get you that tea – and then how about a walk along the sea front?”

“I’d like that,” she said, the tension in her shoulders easing a little, “but I must ask my boss. He’s a real stickler for the rules.”

Edward grinned, mostly in relief at hearing her sound more like herself. “It is your last day. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“Make your farewells,” said Edward, pulling Julia’s coat down from the rack. They’d been back and cleaned themselves up and had tea, and he felt it was about time to go. “Miss Graves and I are going for a walk and get some sea air.”

North winked at Julia. “So, now after having dragged you down into a pit he’s going to freeze you half to death. You must be looking forward to leaving.”

“I am,” said Julia, “but I shall miss you.” She slipped off the desk, depositing her cup beside her and skipped over to give North a peck on the cheek. Then she turned to Edward and took his arm.

Edward’s heart gave an unruly leap that he tried to ignore at her casual closeness. They walked out of the building together, like that; he with his coat draped over his other arm. As they reached the gates, she tightened her hold on him and said, “You know, I have to warn you, I may be a bit tipsy.”

“On tea?” said Edward.

Julia laughed. “No. Once you were out of the way, Mr North plied me with strong spirits as promised. I’m not used to it.”

“Very wise, probably.”

“Oh, no,” said Julia and waved her other hand. “Only that I hadn’t quite left school when the war began, so.” She shrugged. Edward understood. She’d been a teenager and the stuff had been hard to come by – still was – and she’d had no reason to go to the lengths or expense needed to start the habit.

Edward glanced down at her. “North didn’t offer me any.”

“No,” said Julia. “He said in your case he’d better save it for later.”

That was a sobering reminder that nothing had changed, despite the unexpected turn the day had taken. Julia was engaged and she was leaving first thing in the morning, going back to her old life in London and her waiting fiancé. He had better keep that in mind. Damn North, though. Edward would have liked to have had the comfort of believing that his feelings weren’t so transparent to anyone else. 

“I agreed to come with you for a reason,” said Julia. She spoke a little more loudly than she needed, evidently not joking about the whisky. “Well, going to the sea one last time sounded nice, too, but I want to explain. I did rather lose my head and I think – I think I’d like you to understand.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me. I don’t think the worse of you for it, I promise.”

“Thank you,” she said, as he helped her down through the sand dunes to the beach. “But I want to. If you don’t mind.”

He leant in towards her as he rested his hand briefly over hers. “Fire away.”

“In a little while,” said Julia. “I need to work myself up to it first.”

* * *

Julia woke as the sun went in behind a cloud, stealing the warmth from the beach. She blinked and rubbed her head before sitting. Her coat, which had been draped over her, fell off. She had been lying on Edward’s coat, with his jacket folded up under her head like a pillow. She put her hand to it, touching tiny dried fragments of mud caught in the fabric, from his fall down the bomb crater. It smelt like Terrex rather than its owner; a mix of the musty archives and offices and the metal and engine oil of the shed, eliciting a quite absurd pang of nostalgia in her, as if it had already been months ago that she’d left.

She drew herself up, putting her arms around her knees, her shoes lying to one side on the sand, and scanned the horizon for Edward. Where had he got to while she’d dozed off? He wouldn’t have left her there, would he? Her momentary fears eased as soon as she caught sight of him at the ocean’s edge, skimming pebbles; shirt sleeves and trousers rolled up. She gave an involuntary laugh. It seemed so unexpectedly undignified and boyish. The sun hadn’t emerged from behind the cloud here on the beach yet, but beyond Edward, rays escaped and played about on the waves. 

Edward turned and saw her. He waved and headed back over, his shoes in his hand. Julia’s mouth twitched as she watched his approach. He was still wearing his waistcoat, despite his other concessions to his surroundings.

“Julia,” he said, reaching her. “Feeling better?”

She smiled. “Much, thanks.” 

She felt sudden, unwanted tears prickle behind her eyes. She wished he hadn’t spotted that she was awake. She would have been quite happy, sitting here, watching him for a while longer. Heavens, it was dreadful. She could be in love with him so easily, if she let herself. Tomorrow, she reminded herself. Tomorrow she would be back on the train to London, back to her carefully-made plans, and George, and reality. Edward would be safe from her and her nightmares and her curse. She would be safe from him and all the inconvenient feelings he brought with him. Everything would be well again.

Edward perched on the edge of the canvas. “Do you want to go back or –?”

“Not yet,” said Julia. “Besides, I want to explain why I lost my head like that. I mean, not that there really is an excuse. I panicked.”

Edward leant back on the sand, arms behind his head, gazing up at the passing clouds. “I’m listening.”

It was easier to tell when he wasn’t looking right at her. Julia let her mind drift back to that first autumn of the Blitz. She scooped up a handful of sand idly and let it trickle out through unsteady fingers.

“It’s to do with your brothers, isn’t it?” said Edward quietly.

“Yes. Mostly.” Julia shivered, cold despite the sun’s re-appearance. “You know what happened, of course. But the thing is – the thing that made it even worse – I was supposed to be with them. We were all meeting up before Christy was sent off elsewhere with the regiment. I was delayed at work and had to take shelter there. You know the rest.” Her brothers had been in a church crypt that had taken a direct hit. There had been few survivors.

Edward turned on his side, eyeing her with concern.

“That’s how it all went wrong with Mother and me,” Julia went on, suddenly breathless. “I don’t mean that she wished it had been me and not them, but it was – I was there and they weren’t. And I didn’t exactly wish I wasn’t, but –” She shrugged. “We weren’t any good to each other for a long while. But that was later. That wasn’t the stupid thing I did.” She raised her eyes upward and then closed them against the blue of the sky. She dug her fingers further down into the sand, feeling the coolness of the damp grains below against her skin.

“I’m sorry.”

Julia shook her head. “Oh, I don’t deserve anyone’s pity. I’m alive. I felt, after that, as if I was untouchable. I went out after the siren sounded sometimes, if I could get away with it, and walked around – saw the horizon burning.” She felt her throat constrict and had to pause, pressing a hand against her forehead. “Like I was daring them to hit me, too, the way I deserved. Them or fate, or something.”

“ _Julia_ ,” he said.

She didn’t dare look at him; the sympathy in his voice was bad enough. “Of course, it was madness and I’m only lucky I got less than I deserved in the end. Or maybe it is fate. I’m like Typhoon Mary.”

“Julia,” Edward said, in an entirely different tone before biting his tongue. 

Her lips quivered, but she couldn’t quite laugh, not then. Not about this. “You know what I mean. And I think my version’s more appropriate. Anyway, the last time, I went out along a street that had been badly hit the night before and when Jerry started up again, it was hit again – near enough that I fell into a hole – a cellar, I suppose – and wound up half buried under the rubble. I couldn’t move again till it got light enough to see properly. I thought I might bring the whole place down on my head otherwise. But I could see some things, sometimes – the searchlights – the moon. You know.” Julia swallowed. “I could see somebody’s gym shoe and I knew it probably was only a shoe but – I didn’t know for certain if it was – if it was somebody – a body –”

She stuck on that note, finding the same old panic rising in her. She didn’t even realise how long she must have frozen there until Edward reached out a hand to her, his fingers light and slightly sandy against her arm.

“Julia?”

She shook herself and tried to smile, but had to blink away tears. “Yes, well, I was pulled out in the morning by the warden and given a stern lecture. I never did anything like that again. But I kept dreaming that I was back down there – and that it was Rudy or Christy lying dead beside me. And whenever things get bad, the nightmares always come back. It’s just different people in them each time.” She was hard pressed not to stretch her hand out and touch his face. He’d been in the nightmare again only this morning and talking of it made her instinctively want reassurance that he was alive.

“It wasn’t stupid,” said Edward, almost harshly.

Julia started, brought back to the here and now with a jolt. She registered the soothing murmur of the sea and warmth the early summer sun on her face and the thoughts of darkness and sirens and bombs falling faded. 

“That is, it wasn’t a sensible thing to do,” Edward went on, “but you were grieving. In shock. I don’t expect you really knew what you were doing. And that sounds like a nasty experience, even without the rest. It’s hardly surprising if it comes back to you.”

Julia felt her face heat. She didn’t know what she’d expected from him, but suddenly she wished rather that he’d raged at her for a little idiot instead. The way he was looking at her with a steady gaze of concern, the way his mouth twisted in pity – she didn’t want that. It was unbearable.

Edward’s brows furrowed, as if he was contemplating serious matters, and Julia caught her breath. Then he glanced at his watch before looking back at her, his face clearing into a smile. “It’s a little on the early side, but it’s been a strange afternoon. Shall we finish things with fish and chips?”

Julia blinked and then laughed at the unexpected, prosaic question. She almost couldn’t answer, feeling the same deep rush of fondness for him that she had when he’d presented her with cake. She really was very shallow sometimes. Anyone could have her, it seemed, if they only plied her with food.

“Not if you don’t want to,” he said, drawing back. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive – I’m sorry. I was listening, I promise, not merely thinking of my stomach.”

Julia shook her head. “Don’t you dare take that back. I’d love fish and chips. Let’s walk down there and see what they’ve got.”

“My father would disown me if he saw me right now,” said Julia, walking beside Edward, sharing a bag of chips wrapped up in paper.

Edward glanced down at her, lifting his brows in enquiry.

“He wouldn’t have us eating in public,” she said, screwing up her face in amusement. “Terribly common, you know.”

Edward walked up the beach towards the sand dunes, finding a spot to put down the canvas and then they sat down and finished off the fish and chips between them.

“I’ll miss this,” said Julia, gesturing out at the sea. “Although it ought to be warmer in London. There is that. And I’ll see Mother.”

Edward swallowed his last chip. “Not to mention Mr Hall.”

“Oh, yes,” said Julia. She put a hand up to keep the sea breeze from whipping her hair into her face. “George, too, of course, as you say. That will be nice.”

“Julia. Are you really going to marry him?”

She drew back sharply. “Haven’t I said so all along?”

“You don’t love him. He doesn’t love you.”

Julia’s shoulders stiffened. “That’s a good thing. I know you don’t understand, but you must see a little now. I’m all wrong. Better not to have all the upsets and fuss of being in love. George and I don’t have that sort of relationship, so we won’t indulge in all that sort of bother. I know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t think you do,” said Edward. “Unless you mean that he’s an automaton and not a human being, of course you’ll have disagreements – of course things will be difficult sometimes.”

Julia knelt and faced him to ensure that he received the full force of her glare. “I know that! It’s not the same – it’ll be easier – I know what I mean. You just don’t understand.”

“Don’t do it,” he said, a ragged edge to his voice that took her by surprise. “Julia. For God’s sake, don’t. It’s a terrible idea. Stay – I mean, at least let’s give us a try. See what happens. I’ve never met anyone I’ve felt this way about before.”

Julia half flung herself forward, catching hold of his hands. Then she let go and raised her fingers to his face. “Edward, no, shh. Don’t say things like that!” She closed her eyes, hating herself. In theory she had behaved perfectly well, but she knew underneath that part of her had _wanted_ to make Edward look at her like that, almost more in some way to hurt him than to make him love her. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t like her. “I’m so sorry. I’m a beast. I didn’t mean –”

He closed his fingers around her hand on his face, gently lowering it. “You didn’t do anything,” he said. “Please. Forget I said it.”

“No,” said Julia, and leant in to kiss him on the cheek, but he turned his head at the same moment, causing her to awkwardly kiss his ear instead. She caught at his shirt collar and moved her head in to try again, this time kissing him on the mouth. It was only farewell, an act of kindness. There was nothing wrong with that, was there? Edward returned the kiss, one hand in her hair, the other around her waist, tugging her in nearer and something in her unravelled and the beach seemed to wave unsteadily about her, as if it had swapped places with the sea. There was most definitely something wrong with that. 

It was absurd – she should pull free. Her fingers were greasy from the chips, and she could taste the salt and vinegar on his mouth. His hands were rough with sand, and yet she only hung onto him more closely, breathlessly repaying kiss for kiss; resolve weakening further with each touch until Edward suddenly caught at her left hand and shifted sharply backwards across the sand. He closed his fingers around her wrist, not painfully, but firmly, forcing her to look at it – and the ring on her finger.

“You had better take that off,” he said with an effort, his voice hoarse. “Either that, or get on and leave.”

Julia felt tears constrict her throat. She didn’t dare look at him, her senses still tingling from his caresses. She flexed her hand in his grasp and the small diamond stone caught the light. It had only been a moment of folly. Nothing had changed.

“Let go,” she said, hardly recognising her own voice.

Edward released her.

“There’s no need to make such a song and dance about it,” she said, snatching at her coat and rising to her feet. “Honestly, this is exactly what I mean about all that sentimental nonsense – I take pity on you and try to say goodbye nicely and you make a fuss!” She brushed sand from her skirt. She seized her sudden flare of anger and let it carry her out of danger. “I told you at the start! I’m not interested in you, no matter what my mother says! And I’m engaged, which you knew all along.”

“So I did,” said Edward, his words clipped. He stood, but only slowly, his movements stiff. “Yes.”

Julia looked him up and down and then raised her chin, her coat clutched in against herself. “I think you’re awful! Why would I want some horrid grey suit who goes around closing factories and having terrible marriages? I knew as soon as I saw you that I didn’t like you. You’re just – Oh!” Julia gestured a hand in his direction. “You’re stuffy and hopeless – nothing but a ridiculous walking matchstick man with a stupid pointy nose! I’m going back now, and you’re not allowed to follow me!”

* * *

Edward slept badly enough that he wished he’d taken North up on his previous night’s offer of however much whisky he needed to chase the thought of Julia out of his head. But he was determined to see her off on the train and the earliest one left at five to six. He wasn’t sure what she’d make of him popping up on the platform, but he needed to end whatever this was or wasn’t in a more civilised fashion than yesterday’s scene on the beach. A dignified farewell, that was all – no more declarations to annoy her.

She didn’t get on the first train and he killed time wandering about the fields in the still of the early morning, before returning to the station only to for her not to board the next train, either. He frowned at his watch. 8.15. He was sure she couldn’t have been intending to catch a later one. His hopes rose immediately and he hurried on into the village and down Back Street, and until he halted outside Mrs Donnelly’s front door.

“Mr Iveson,” Mrs Donnelly said when she answered his knock, voice lifting in surprise. “Is something wrong?”

He tugged his hat in greeting. “Sorry to bother you at this hour. I was just passing and thought I could escort Miss Graves to the train station – give her a hand with her luggage.”

“Didn’t you know?” Mrs Donnelly said. “She left on the last train yesterday. Though why she had to go on one of them uncomfortable overnight things, I don’t know. I told her, it’d be just as fast to wait for the morning, but she’d set her heart on it and there you are.”

Edward wasn’t even sure what he’d said in response. He walked blindly away, down the lane and over the first stile back into the fields, stopping only when he was out of sight in a small copse of trees.

Julia had already gone. She had left last night while he was telling North he only wanted to be left alone with his book. “I didn’t think she would,” he said to the world at large, and then put a hand to his head, weariness falling over him like an old and heavy blanket. He’d thought he’d been prepared for this. He’d planned to say goodbye this morning, nothing more, but now he discovered that some treacherous part of him had believed she’d think better of her plan and stay or at least promise to meet up again in London. She couldn’t simply have _gone_.

The rest of the day was equally unsatisfactory. He was bad tempered, tired, and could have done without the noise and disruption of the workmen who’d been sent in to start demolishing the worksheds and fill in the bomb crater. Edward made one last round to be sure any remaining useful items and files had been crated up ready for the removal people tomorrow and made what telephone calls he could before the racket defeated him. At that point, he gave up on Terrex and drafted out a small section for the AGM of another company’s board meeting and typed it up on Julia’s abandoned typewriter, hitting the keys as if it had offended him personally.

He left early – there was nothing more to do and he couldn’t bear to sit there in his office, looking through the open door at the outer office and Julia’s empty seat while the buildings fell around his ears. Julia had told him over and over that she was going to go, that she was going to marry Hall, but the reality of it ripped at him in a way that made him feel an unwanted kinship with the rusted old structures being torn down outside.

Julia had gone. If he saw her again, it would probably only be at some family event, most likely a funeral. She’d be married to Hall and Edward would have to keep his distance, exchange polite nothings, and try never to speculate as to whether or not she was happy.

 _God, Julia_ , he thought, as he pulled the sheet of paper out from the typewriter and laid it on the desk. _I hope you’re right about Hall._ He closed his eyes, reminding himself not to vilify Hall. All he had was gut instinct and while he liked to think he was a good judge of character, he couldn’t be trusted in this case. Hall had Julia and didn’t seem to realise how damn lucky that made him and Edward was never going to forgive him for it.

Edward filed the agenda, put the typewriter away. He called out to North as he passed through the outer office that he was leaving early and headed towards the cliff top for a walk. He set off north, in the opposite direction from the path he’d taken with Julia yesterday, but her ghost remained with him nonetheless.

Edward squinted at the cards in his hand. Everything was beginning to become pleasantly blurry at the edges. “You’re cheating. You get me drunk out of sheer kindness, you said. How much do I owe you?”

“Five quid,” said North. “But given that I tried the same tactic months ago when we first met and it didn’t work then, it’s not the whisky that’s the problem, is it?”

Edward frowned. “Don’t want to talk about that – her.” Being drunk had been working so far; his feelings for Julia mercifully distant for a while. 

“Good,” said North, shuffling the cards in his hand. “Not that I blame you. Smashing young lady, our Miss Graves. Not really your type, though. I’m sure it’s for the best.”

Edward let his cards fall forward onto the tiny table between them. They were in his room, he sitting on his bed and North opposite on an old wooden chair. He glared. “Damn you.”

“Want another game?” said North, and grinned. “We can try something simpler. More on your level right now. Like Snap.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Edward muttered and then blinked as he swayed. He leant backwards, and grunted in slight surprise. “Might need to just – rest my eyes.”

“You do that,” said North as Edward slumped down sideways onto the bed and hovered on the edge of oblivion. It felt like the best possible place to be right now.

Half asleep already before North had even left the room, in Edward’s dreams, Julia was there, moving in close and kissing him the way she had on the beach. He wanted nothing else.


	6. Chapter Five

Julia spent her first day back in London in a foul temper. Getting the overnight train had resulted in a longer journey with far less sleep and though she knew it had been the only way to be certain of avoiding Edward, she wasn’t sure it had been worth it. The only thing she did that day was to post an invitation to her wedding to Edward, with all the details heavily underscored and a note to say it was only to make everything plain to him, since he otherwise seemed to be incapable of understanding the fact that she was going to be married in only two weeks.

On the following day, she cheered up a little, having had a proper night’s sleep and could now enjoy being back home. It was easier to focus on things that needed to be done – navigating queues to replenish her empty kitchen shelves, sorting through the post her sub-tenant had left on the table, and returning to making preparations for the wedding. She checked the suitcase that contained the clothes she’d been putting together for her marriage for a year, through careful saving of clothes rations and things she’d scrounged from her mother. By this point, her regular clothes didn’t bear thinking about, but at least she’d walk down the aisle in an egg blue suit and underwear that hadn’t been darned twice over.

On the third day, she was due to meet George in St James’s Park for lunch and then on to visit her mother afterwards. Everything would be back to normal. There would be no more of this distressing swinging from undeserved pleasure at silly things to sudden misery. She would have duties to perform and a place where she fitted, and everything would be simple and safe. The nightmares would ease and Edward would no longer appear in them. She would never see him again. It would be better that way.

George was waiting for her in the park. As Julia walked towards him, everything suddenly seemed quite unreal. The grass and greenery were too vivid to be true and people’s voices blurred around her. She ignored their peculiar behaviour and pressed on, keeping her sights set on George.

He turned and stepped towards her and, as she reached him, he took her hand and moved in to casually kiss her on the cheek. Panic gripped her and she pulled out of his grasp so violently that she stumbled backwards into a man in a suit, who glared, despite her instant, flustered apology. 

“Julia?” said George. “Something wrong, darling?”

Julia stared back at him, as if he was a stranger all over again. The sense of unreality magnified until she thought she was going to pass out. When George frowned and stepped towards her, she backed away. The idea of him touching her made her turn cold. She could not have him kiss her, not even casually. Heavens, she thought and the clammy feeling worsened. She didn’t want him touching her where Edward had touched her, profaning her sacred salt and vinegar kisses. She put her hand to her mouth, stifling the urge to laugh. It was absurd, but also a nightmare she couldn’t simply wake up from. Everything was the wrong way round, and it was her fault. She must find a way to right it, and she wasn’t sure she could.

“Julia?” said George stiffly, leading her away from the main path and the curious stares of passers-by. “Are you unwell?”

Julia nearly grasped at that catch-all excuse in relief. For a moment the rest of the day played out in her mind. She’d accompany him out to lunch, and pretend nothing had changed. They’d talk about plans for a wedding that she wasn’t sure she could go through with, not really, until it was much too late to tell him so. Her chest tightened at the prospect. It was selfish, but she didn’t want to spend another second anywhere near him. She only wanted Edward.

She glanced down and tried to recover her equilibrium, reminding herself that she had promised to do this, and what an awful thing it would be to leave him in the lurch now, even if he didn’t love her. The image of Edward on that last evening on the beach returned to her; how he’d all but begged her not to go, and how unkind she’d been. To play along with George’s charade meant hurting Edward even more. She couldn’t do that – bad enough she had hurt him at all, let alone persisting with this terrible plan of hers.

“George,” she said breathlessly, taking another step away from him. “George, I am so sorry. I can’t marry you. You won’t believe me, but I only realised it this very moment. It’s dreadful, I know, but – I can’t!”

George put a hand to her arm. “Julia. Calm down, darling. Last minute nerves are perfectly understandable, especially in a case like ours, but there’s no need to indulge in melodramatics in public. Shall we have lunch and talk it over?”

Julia again felt the urge to play along. After all, the charade was hers, not his. It had been her idea, really – her way out of her nightmare. How to have a relationship and not be alone while not having to love anyone enough to provoke her curse. She straightened herself. _No._ Time to end what she should never have started.

“Yes, let’s,” she said, raising her head. “And then you can tell me how I really feel and everything will be all right again.”

“Good God, you’re serious,” said George, his gaze narrowing, but he couldn’t row with her in the park, surrounded by fellow Londoners and tourists. “It’s a little on the late side for changing your mind. I have everything booked – there are only two weeks to go. What am I to tell people?”

Julia found it easier to breathe already. “I’m sorry. Tell them I’m just a dreadful person. It’s true. After everything I said about wanting a practical arrangement, I was fooling myself all along. I don’t think I’d ever have truly gone through with it. Better now than at the altar, at least.”

“This isn’t remotely amusing, Julia.”

She hadn’t meant it to be, so she shrugged and hoped she looked properly penitent.

George looked at her for a long moment and then his mouth turned down. “This is about Iveson, isn’t it?”

Julia swallowed. She wasn’t quite ready to admit that aloud, let alone to George, but honesty wouldn’t allow her to deny it completely. “I don’t know – perhaps. But I can’t anyway. If you need me to pay for anything –”

“No, I don’t, thank you,” said George. “But you could have given me more notice.”

Julia tugged off her glove and worked at the ring, finding it suddenly awkward, but she twisted it off at last and handed it back to him.

George closed his fingers around it. “I must say I’m disappointed. I thought better of you, Julia.”

“Yes, well,” said Julia, with a twisted smile, “that’s probably why I should be with someone who knows exactly how awful I am.” If, she thought, she hadn’t driven Edward away by telling him he was boring and had a stupid nose _and_ provided he didn’t mind being sent aggressive wedding invitations. Awful didn’t even begin to cover it. Her stomach did uncomfortable backflips. Maybe it was already too late.

Julia watched George go and then made her way to a bench to sit down and breathe properly before she really did faint. 

She found the world righting itself around her with surprising speed. Indeed, it all seemed quite splendid. The sun was shining, the swans were looking elegant on the Serpentine and the people walking about seemed so much less drab than when last she’d been here, and she felt so light she thought she might float right off the bench. She wasn’t going to marry George!

She got to her feet and raced for the nearest telephone box.

“Mr Hanley. Yes, it’s me – oh, yes, I’m fine now, thank you. Is Mr Iveson still there? Oh.” Julia paused, struggling to hear everything over the background noise of London traffic. “Yes, of course he is. Did he say which train? Eight o’clock? Yes, thank you so much – and to you.”

Julia emerged from the booth and looked at her watch. If she hurried, she might just be in time to meet the train at King’s Cross. She glanced up, took her bearings, and headed off to the Embankment tube station at a pace.

Julia arrived at King’s Cross nearly fifteen minutes after Edward’s train had pulled in, overheated and puffing for breath. She waited at the end of the platform, craning her neck at an angle to see the last trickle of passengers and staff disembarking from it, but there was no sign of Edward.

She turned on the spot in a full circle, just to be sure he wasn’t in any of the shops or making his way over to the Underground entrance, but it was no go. She was too late. Her good mood faded, but she was supposed to visit her mother this afternoon, and Mother would have Edward’s London address. She could go over later and if he wasn’t in, she could lurk suspiciously in the area until he finally turned up.

Julia checked her watch and decided to go to Paddington and see Mother. She wouldn’t mind Julia dropping in earlier than planned. She set off down the stairs to the Underground and got onto the platform before she remembered that Edward had told her several times that he was going straight to Kent from Northumberland. He had files he needed to hand over to his father and his flat had been let to someone else until the end of the month.

“Oh, hell,” said Julia, under her breath as the next train trundled in. She knew how to get to the Ivesons’ house, of course, and Mother must have their telephone number, but the idea of bursting in on them unannounced for the second time that year gave her pause, even before she thought about the effect of making the opposite declaration to the last time. She could speak to Edward on the telephone, if he was willing, but she wanted to _see_ him. How else could she explain? She had to make him understand that her change of heart was genuine – that it wasn’t even strictly a change of heart, only a better understanding of her feelings. That wasn’t something she wanted to try on an open line with the operator and half a dozen other people listening in.

By the time she emerged back into the sunlight outside Paddington Station, her brief, misery had steadily eaten its way into her optimism. She wouldn’t be able to see Edward for a month at least. What if he enjoyed being free of her and all her nonsense too much? A month was a long time. He might meet someone else – someone much nicer and better behaved who didn’t insult him and then run away. It was a horrid thought, even if it wasn’t very likely.

She couldn’t wait a whole month. She wasn’t sure, even if she braved a phone call and they arranged to meet in a week or so, that she could wait that long. She sighed heavily as she came to a stop before her mother’s door, and rapped on it, before hallooing through the letterbox.

“Julia, dear, you’re early,” said Hanne, embracing her and ushering her in. “Is something wrong? Not that I’m not pleased to see you. I was so worried you might not –”

Julia kissed her mother, hugging her tightly before she could finish. “No, no. I _was_ angry, I know, but I got your letter and it’s all right, I promise.”

“You did,” Hanne said. “Would you like tea or coffee or something to eat?”

Julia said, “Tea would be lovely – I’ll make it. How about we go out presently and I’ll treat you to lunch?”

“Weren’t you supposed to be lunching with your Mr Hall?” said Hanne, following Julia into the tiny kitchen.

Julia put the kettle on the gas stove and concentrated on trying to light it. “Oh, yes, but –” She straightened up, shaking the match out. She felt her face heat in a way that had nothing to do with the flames. Despite everything, it was a bit much to hand Mother the perfect opportunity to say I told you so.

“I didn’t mean to be interfering,” said Hanne, more quietly than usual. “I’m so sorry. If this is what you want, then it’s what you must do. I’ve already apologised to Ned, too, you needn’t worry. I shan’t do ever anything so foolish again.”

Julia kept her head turned away, hiding behind the cupboard door as she fished out the cups and saucers.

“If you need any help with anything, you must let me know,” Hanne continued, evidently determined to make up for her previous error. She leant forward and Julia heard Hanne catch her breath as she shut the cupboard door.

When Julia turned, Hanne grabbed hold of her left hand.

“Julia, darling,” she said. She bristled. “Did that man jilt you? Oh, how dare he?”

Julia pulled her hand away, blinking back unwilling tears. “No, he didn’t. I couldn’t do it after all, Mother. Congratulations, you ruined everything, arranging for me to meet Edward!” She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes as she crossed to the stove take the boiling kettle off the hob.

“Let’s have tea first,” said Hanne, after a moment’s pause. “Then, darling, you can explain everything to me.”

Julia nodded, sniffing, as she poured hot water into the teapot. “What I don’t understand is how you could possibly _know_ that I would – that Edward and I would –” She shook her head.

“I didn’t,” said Hanne. “It seemed to me that if you wanted to make a marriage of convenience, it ought to be to someone more considerate than Mr Hall. And poor Ned never did find someone else after Caroline, so why not? Darling,” she added, as Julia failed to keep back more tears, “there’s no need for this. Tell Ned. He came here not long ago and while he never said as much in words, I’m sure he’s grown extremely fond of you.”

Julia had to stand back and let her mother take over the tea making before she scalded herself while her vision blurred with tears. “He might have been, but I was horrid to him and now I can’t see him because he’s in Kent for a month, and you know what the telephone is like.”

“Did you not sleep well again?” asked her mother after a pause.

Julia shrugged.

“Well, there you are,” said Hanne. “Have your cup of tea, then go straight home and pack an overnight bag and take the next train. I will telephone the Ivesons and make everything right with them. If Ned doesn’t want you there, well, it’s not very far, is it? Catch the next train back and you can stay the night with me.”

Julia bit back a laugh. “Oh, Mother! I can’t descend on them like that – not again.”

“Of course you can,” said Hanne. “Just don’t forget your ration book.”

* * *

Edward lay on the bed in the guest room and tried to concentrate on his book. The train journey had been long, but with no serious delays, and now he’d had a wash, he felt almost human again. The last minute rush of the previous two days had been a relief, allowing him little leisure to dwell on the loss of Julia. Now that was over, the prospect of a month’s peace and quiet was no longer one he welcomed. He needed something to keep his mind off Julia. It had been bad enough on the train. He kept feeling that he ought to do something, but when it came down to it, what could he do when it was up to Julia to decide whom she married.

He fingered the wedding the invitation he’d been unwisely using as a bookmark. Take this, though. It didn’t exactly imply that Julia wanted him to leave her alone. One didn’t send unnecessary over-emphatic messages to people one didn’t want to hear from again. He sighed. Should he ignore it or write to her? Was he supposed to turn up at the wedding and object, as if this were a stage play? Julia did seem to run her life on dramatic principles, but even so – what part _did_ she want him to play? Perhaps he was reading too much into it and she would prefer that he exit pursued by a bear –

“Ned, how did things turn out with Julia?”

He started violently and sat upright, dropping the open book onto the bed.

“Well, dear?” said his mother from the doorway.

Edward had always felt that both of his parents at times exhibited worrying mind-reading abilities, but he couldn’t understand how she could know what he was feeling. Had Hanne said something?

“It must have been awkward for both of you,” his mother continued. “Hanne is a dear friend but there are times when she has no sense whatsoever. I don’t know what your father was thinking, encouraging her.”

Edward rescued his book and replaced the invitation inside it. “Oh, no, it was fine. Julia was annoyed to begin with, but we called a truce soon enough – and her typing was excellent, which is the pertinent point.” He pushed the book away from him as if it might be a bad influence. As if he cared about the number of words per minute Julia could manage.

“And Julia,” said Mother quietly, “is she well? Is Hanne right to be worried about this fiancé of hers?”

Edward stifled annoyance and reminded himself that his mother had been concerned about Julia when she was little more than a name to him. “I’m not sure she is,” he said. “As for Hall, I hope not. It’s hard to tell, isn’t it? I didn’t much care for him myself.”

“Poor Julia,” said Mother and then straightened herself, giving him a smile. “Still, that will have put paid to Hanne’s nonsensical scheme. That would never have done.”

Edward watched her go. “And what is it,” he muttered to the empty room, “that everyone finds so damned inconceivable about the idea?”

He picked up the book again, but took in even less. He barely registered the telephone ringing in the study downstairs, either, until Father arrived on the landing and tapped on the open door to Edward’s room.

“Ned,” Father said. “That was Hanne Graves on the telephone. Says young Julia is on her way here to see you.”

He jumped up from the bed. “Julia? Why?”

“She seemed to think you’d have an idea,” said Father.

“Which train is she on?”

“Hanne didn’t know.”

Edward laughed. “Of course she didn’t.” He checked his watch. “I’d better go. The next train is due in less than ten minutes.”

“I don’t think she can have left that long ago.”

Edward reached for his jacket. “I’m sure you’re right, but in my experience, you never know when it comes to the Graves family. I wouldn’t want to miss her.”

* * *

Julia pressed her fingers against the glass of the window. The train had passed the last stop before her destination and her nerves were beginning to mount. What would she say to the Ivesons? Worse still, what might Mother have said to them? Would Edward even want to speak to her? 

She craned her head to see as the train rounded a corner into the station. She had only a moment’s view of the approaching platform before the smoke and a shift in the direction of the track obscured it again, but it was enough for her to glimpse his distinctive tall silhouette.

She closed her eyes in relief. Edward was there, waiting for her. It was all right. Even if he only wanted to row with her, she would get to see him one last time and tell him the truth, and that would be better than nothing.

Julia leapt up from her seat and pulled out her case from the shelf overhead. She was in too much haste to take proper care, and knocked into the legs of the lady opposite, who scowled. Julia gasped out an apology before dashing into the narrow corridor and making for the door. She poked her head out of the window as they slowed, ignoring the smoke, just to be certain she hadn’t imagined Edward. She fought with the door handle even before the train had fully halted, but it wouldn’t seem to give, until it abruptly did and she half fell down the steps into Edward’s arms.

He steadied her, hands on her shoulders and gave her a small, hesitant smile before releasing her. He reached past her to pick up her case, still on the floor of the train and then pulled her back from the edge.

“Edward,” she said, all of her carefully rehearsed apologies forgotten. She slipped her hand into his when he held it out to her. She tried to say something more sensible but only managed another breathless, “Edward.”

He looked down at her and his expression lightened. “Julia,” he murmured, not much more eloquent in return as he ushered her out along the platform towards the gate out of the station. 

Julia let him lead the way. “I’m not going to marry George.”

“Thank God,” said Edward and grinned before she could scold him. “I’d hoped it must be something like that when Father said you were on your way.”

Julia stroked the sleeve of his jacket with her thumb. “I was awful. I’m so very sorry. I didn’t mean any of those things I said that night.”

“I don’t mean to sound big-headed, but I didn’t believe you did. Not very much at any rate,” said Edward.

They walked along the middle of the village’s main street. It was impossibly pretty, full of old wood and plaster houses that might have come out of the picture on the top of a chocolate box.

“I have behaved badly, though,” said Julia, managing to recover some sort of coherency at last. “To both you and to George. He was quite decent about it, all considered. I’m a beast.”

Edward tightened his grip on her hand as the central cluster of buildings began to peter out into the countryside proper. “Don’t you dare feel bad about him. He should never have made this arrangement with you! Good God! Anyone with half an ounce of sense would have seen that you weren’t yet in any sort of state to be writing yourself off in that way.”

“Heavens,” said Julia, unsure if she was pleased or insulted. “Does that include me?”

He turned sharply. “No. How does one tell what stage one has reached when one is in the middle of climbing out of the dark? Hall, on the other hand –”

“Really was quite decent, considering I must have cost him a great deal of money, inconvenience and humiliation,” put in Julia, trying to be fair, despite finding Edward flying to her defence in that way completely fascinating.

“Yes, sorry. I’ll never like him. Too prejudiced.”

“You and my mother both,” said Julia. “Poor George. I wonder what it was?”

Edward shifted his hold on her hand. “I can tell you that. He didn’t love you.”

“It was meant to be a marriage of convenience. I didn’t love him, either.”

Edward smiled. “I didn’t say it was fair or logical. But your mother _does_ love you and so to see you with someone who doesn’t is unbearable. Almost a kind of blasphemy.”

“To my mother,” said Julia, heat stealing into her cheeks. 

“Yes.” Edward coughed. “So what finally brought you to your senses?”

“If you’re going to be mean, I’m going back to London. I bought a return ticket, you know. I didn’t want to tempt fate.”

“Sorry. What changed your mind?”

Julia stared ahead. “I didn’t understand why I felt the way I did. I know that must sound stupid, but I’d drummed it into myself – my unbreakable plan for the future, with George. I couldn’t see past it, not even after that afternoon on the beach. And I _had_ given him my word. But this morning – I went to meet George and I couldn’t even let him touch me, only because he wasn’t you, and I couldn’t pretend any longer.”

“Oh, God,” said Edward, and as they passed one last row of houses, led her across the road towards the fields. He let go of her at the stile over the fence, climbed over it and turned back to help her. Julia didn’t need any assistance, but she let him take her hand as she stepped over and then lift her down, his hands around her waist, hers on his shoulders. She wondered how many others had done the same before them. Edward leant his head in against hers briefly and, one hand still resting against her back, he guided her on towards a small copse.

As soon as they were out of sight of the road, Julia turned, catching hold of his jacket. She might really have gone through with it, she thought, with a shiver. She might have married George, and what would they all have done? What if she’d never agreed to go north and she’d only met Edward much later?

“Julia,” said Edward, causing her to look up at him, and he lowered his head to bend in and kiss her, one hand still at the small of her back, the other now warm against her cheek. 

Julia gripped his lapels and couldn’t quite respond the way she wanted to, finding it hard even to breathe. She could have been at lunch with George now, sitting there with his ring on her finger, when it had been a lie all along. How dared she be here, pretending she had any right to feel this way? “Edward,” she said, blinking, “I’m afraid I’m going to cry.” 

She’d woken at some unearthly hour in the morning, heart thudding with terror because she’d been buried alive again, with Edward lying dead beside her, and she’d meant to stay engaged to Hall and keep Edward safe from everything she brought in her wake. Finding herself instead in Edward’s arms was an immense relief and a terrifying grasp at happiness that she couldn’t believe could be hers. She drew back, hands to her face as she heaved first dry sobs, and then wept properly as he tentatively put a hand to her shoulder.

“Julia, darling,” he said in her ear, and then put his arms around her. Julia stiffened for one moment, because she didn’t deserve his pity, no matter how much she also craved it, but he kissed her hair and she let herself relax even before he murmured, “Do try not to ruin my jacket. Everything else I own is in the laundry.” 

She choked back a watery laugh, stealing one hand out to grasp his sleeve. Then she swallowed salty tears and fished out her hanky with her free hand, before pulling away again to blow her nose. “I’m so sorry! I can’t think why you w-want me. And, oh, you don’t understand! I was supposed not to do this – not to let myself be _happy_!”

“Ah, yes,” said Edward, “and that was, of course, why you were marrying Hall.”

Julia lowered her hanky and narrowed her gaze. “You pig!” She couldn’t keep back giggles, but the worst thing was, it was horribly true. “Oh, no. You’re right – I’m the pig. Oh, dear. Do you want me to use that return ticket?”

“No,” said Edward, putting his arm around her shoulders again. “I told you, I can’t have you feeling bad about Hall. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Julia turned her head towards him, about to try and protest once more that he was being unfair to George, when he kissed her. This time she didn’t forestall him with tears; she caught hold of his collar and returned the gesture. It was, she found, very hard to think of George when she was holding onto Edward, sunlight dancing through green leaves above them. She tugged him in closer and he kissed her up against a tree. She might as well have fallen under some fairy spell, because it was all much too charming and unreal. 

“I really do think,” said Julia, when they drew back and she was leaning against the tree, recovering her breath, “that you’re very unfair to poor George.”

Edward shook his head and then leant forward to pick bits of bark out of her hair. “Count him a villain,” he said. “It’ll be easier. There is evidence, anyway.”

“You’re prejudiced.”

“Very,” agreed Edward, gently pulling her away from the tree. She turned around so that he could assess the damage to her summer coat from behind. He brushed it down. “Even so, he showed a nasty tendency to try and detach you from anyone else close to you.”

Julia shook her head. “If that sort of thing is a crime,” she told him, once she’d turned back round to face him, “then you’ll have to be careful of me. You don’t know what I’d planned to do about that girl you were dancing with at the fête.” She slipped her arm through his as he held it out to her. “If this had been the other way round,” she confessed, “trust me, I’d have done something dreadful and you’d never have got on the train back to town. Or, at least, you’d have known exactly how I felt about you and about whatever unscrupulous woman it was you were trying to marry.”

“That’s different.”

“How is it?”

“You wouldn’t be underhand about it,” said Edward. “You’d just declare war straight out, or at the very least, lay claim to the crime afterwards so I could congratulate you. Now, come on. My parents will be expecting us. Or me, at any rate. Your mother wasn’t at all sure about which train you’d be on.”

It was suddenly hard, Julia found, not to let the words, “I love you,” escape out of her mouth, but she forced them back down. It was much too soon to be saying anything so dangerous. “Jolly good guess, then,” she said, instead.

Edward’s mouth quivered and when she looked at him in enquiry, he gave a sheepish smile and said, “This is my third trip to the station this afternoon, darling.”

* * *

For a day that had begun with a long and tedious train journey and had seemed only likely to end in the leisure to indulge in misery, Edward found himself bemused to instead wind up feeling so alarmingly happy he hardly knew what to do with himself. He had managed to sober himself enough to go over some of the Terrex files with his father after dinner and now, alone in the study, he gathered them up and deposited them on the nearby shelves.

He heard the sound of someone walking along the hallway; recognising the familiar creak of the floorboard as they approached the front door. Julia. It had to be; no one else would have trod so cautiously.

Edward opened the door into the hall and saw her standing on the door mat, coat in one hand and suitcase in the other. He’d thought she might be going for a walk; he had been going to offer to go with her. She stared back at him, eyes widening, and he had no words. His heart thudded in his ears.

“Edward,” she said, dropping the case by the wall and the coat after it. She crossed to stand before him and lowered her voice. “I wasn’t going anywhere, I promise.”

He stood back to let her pass. He couldn’t manage a civil response until he’d shut the door behind her. “Do you often take your suitcase for a walk?” He couldn’t believe she would try to leave in this way. It scraped over too many of the sore places in his heart. He’d been left before. And for her to walk out now; to let him try and explain that to his parents in the morning – His face tightened.

“No,” said Julia. “Oh, Edward, don’t look at me like that. I wasn’t leaving.”

His rigidity eased despite himself at her repeated denial. “I don’t suppose you could. The last train went about twenty minutes ago.”

“Probably,” Julia said. She put out a hand to grasp his sleeve. He closed his eyes at her touch. “I’m sorry. I panicked, but by the time I got down the stairs, I’d come back to my senses. Which was rather awkward, standing there with my suitcase – realising someone was working in here and I’d have to explain why I looked as if I was trying to make a run for it.”

Whatever had clawed a hold onto Edward’s heart let go, and he took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Well, what on earth _were_ you doing?”

“Honestly,” said Julia, anxiously scanning his face. “You have to know that I wouldn’t be so rude to your parents or so dreadful to you, even if for one moment –” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’d been so happy this evening, you see, and then when I went upstairs and thought about all the bad dreams – what might happen to you – I couldn’t stand it. I felt – just for a minute or two – that I had to go away, so you’d be safe.” 

Edward would have liked to assure her the nightmares were over, but given the emotional upheaval of today, he would be very surprised if they didn’t recur tonight; they certainly would sometime. He shifted nearer and slipped his arm around her waist.

She lifted her face to him and then pressed her forehead against his shoulder for a moment. “Oh, it sounds mad, I know,” she said, pulling away. “But what if you were hurt now, tonight, because I stayed? I’m cursed, you see.”

Edward laughed before he saw the reproachful look in her eyes. “Cursed? What was it, evil fairy godmothers at your christening?”

“It’s entirely possible,” said Julia, derailed by the fanciful suggestion. “You never met my great-aunts. Count yourself lucky. They’re awful – all Father’s relatives are. Mother seems to have made it up with Uncle Lionel these days, but Heaven knows why. He’s as appalling as the rest of them. Although,” she added conscientiously, “I did meet some cousins at a funeral once, and they were all right, but I think they were on my grandmother’s side. It’s the Graveses you’ve got to watch out for.”

“Is that the curse?”

Julia sighed. “You think I’m being ridiculous, don’t you? I suppose I am. It’s just – everyone I’ve ever truly loved has died, except Mother. And – well – you’ve seen her recently.”

“Yes,” he said, and squeezed her hand, leaning in to kiss her head. “And that is a terrible thing, Julia, but I don’t think it’s a curse. Curses aren’t real.”

“Oh? What about Tutankhamen?”

Edward had to bite back comments on the subject of newspaper sensationalism and general credulity, and settled for: “Have you unearthed many ancient pharaohs lately?”

“No,” said Julia, lifting her chin, but he saw the way her mouth quirked with suppressed amusement. “Beast. It’s still true.”

Edward stroked her palm with his thumb. “Are you sure this curse is yours, if it’s everybody else who’s getting the worst of it?”

“I’m trying to tell you,” said Julia, pulling her hand away, “that if you and I get together, terrible things could happen.”

“You mean I might go to church one day only to have the vicar ask me if I’m an atheist?”

“That sort of thing could easily happen to anyone.” Julia waved a hand, but the serious light remained in her eyes. “I had to warn you. I know, really, it can’t be true, but it feels as if it is.”

Edward nearly said again that he didn’t believe in curses, especially given that he was apparently an atheist, but he stopped himself. It was understandable that Julia was still suffering from the after effects of that terrible incident, especially when compounded with her brothers’ death. He searched instead for something that might reach her now. “You know, those kinds of curses can always be broken. You just have to find the way. Sometimes,” he said, bending to kiss her, “this is all it takes.”

“I know you’re only humouring me,” said Julia, after a pause, her arms around him and her fingers cold against his neck. “Why is it working?”

Edward grinned and tightened his hold on her. Julia leant against him. “If we’re going to look at things like that, then maybe I had a curse laid on me, too. A far lesser one, but still. I think you’ve already done away with it.”

“Not a spell being cast,” murmured Julia, too obscurely for Edward, “but waking up from one. Perhaps that’s it. Perhaps this is what it feels like. Do you think so?”

“I haven’t a clue,” said Edward, but since she shifted her position to set about kissing him back, it didn’t seem worth worrying about.


	7. Epilogue

John Iveson, seeing Julia approaching the French window from the garden, waved her into the sitting room. As she entered, he turned back to the low shelves beside him and pulled out an elderly album.

“Mr Iveson,” said Julia, closing the windows behind her. “I wanted to speak to you. I felt I ought to apologise – bursting in on you again like this and everything.” Her cheeks tinged with pink. “I don’t know what you must think of me.”

John smiled to himself before raising his head. “Nothing very bad, I assure you.”

Julia moved nearer and rested her hands on the end of the bookshelf. “That’s very kind of you, but I don’t think Mrs Iveson would agree, would she?” She traced patterns on the wood with her fingers, gazing downwards. Then she glanced up. “I’m sorry. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that, but I would like to make things right.”

“Don’t worry, my dear,” said John, as he hunted out a spare pair of reading spectacles. He straightened up slowly and carefully. “Elizabeth is merely labouring under a misapprehension.”

For an intelligent person, Elizabeth had been remarkably obtuse over this last day or so since Julia had arrived. Still, anyone could misread a situation from time to time and some confusion over this one was understandable. He tucked the album under his arm and ushered Julia over to the sofa.

“Your mother suggested that you swap one marriage of convenience for another. Elizabeth is lagging behind the times and thinks you have. Quite naturally, she doesn’t think that is fair on Ned. She’ll soon see the truth, and if she doesn’t I shall put her straight. She’s very fond of you, never fear.”

Julia leant back against her side of the sofa, her expression clearing. She surprised John by putting a hand to her mouth to smother amusement.

“Is it funny?” said John.

Julia shook her head. “It just reminded me of something Edward said. She thinks I don’t love him.”

“Quite,” said John. “Not a delusion she can maintain for much longer, eh?”

Julia shrugged, evidently embarrassed by the conversation. John passed over the album, happy to change the subject. “I gather this is a traditional rite, so I thought I should do the honours.”

“Oh, old photos,” said Julia, turning over the thick card cover. “How lovely. And only fair, since Edward has been to see Mother lots of times and she has heaps of photos of the three of us everywhere.”

John nodded and sat back, letting her leaf through the book, merely keeping an eye on her progress in case anything needed explanation.

“You look very smart,” she said, studying the photograph of his wedding to Elizabeth. Then she fell silent, before turning over the page, whereupon she screwed up her face, and laughed.

John leant over, and she pointed to a photo of Edward as a befrocked infant.

“We have pictures of Father,” she said, “and one of Christy looking terribly cherubic, all goldilocks and a frilly white frock, but somehow I didn’t think of Edward –” She laughed again, and then turned the pages over slowly, passing by the rougher Kodak snaps of Ned with his cousins Nan and Amy. She paused again on another portrait shot, one of Ned, looking very young in a smart suit, taken when he’d started at the Foreign Office. 

John had always liked that picture. He’d had a copy of it up in his study for years until something had happened to the frame. Ned had a faraway look on his eyes and the kind of sober expression common to formal portraits, but the photographer had captured some elusive essence; a speaking likeness. Julia ran a finger down the side of it, falling quiet.

“Did you know?” she said suddenly, looking directly at him. “Did you mean for this to happen?”

John lowered his spectacles so as to look at her properly. “Good heavens. No. Sending you north seemed like the neatest possible solution to the problem. I will admit, it did cross my mind that perhaps it wasn’t entirely fair to Ned, but I decided that he was more than old enough to take care of himself.” His face creased with humour. “I see I underestimated him.”

“He seems to like people to do that,” said Julia distantly, her gaze drawn back to the picture. Her face softened in a way that John didn’t suppose she had any idea of, as she gave a slow smile. “Honestly, how can Mrs Iveson think this is about convenience? He’s the most inconvenient person I’ve ever met.”

She closed the album and frowned down at it.

“My dear?” said John, holding out his hand for the book.

Julia handed it over, blue eyes almost grey. “Are you sure you’re happy about this? I don’t blame Mrs Iveson for thinking the worst. I haven’t behaved well, and I don’t know –” She caught her breath. “I can’t make promises –”

“We all make mistakes,” said John. “You should hear some of mine. And there are few guarantees in this world. The rest of it, you and Ned will have to work out between you.”

Julia nodded, although her frown hadn’t entirely faded. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll do my best, I promise that much.” Her face cleared. “And thank you – I’m very grateful for you giving me that job!”

“I believe I am, too, my dear,” he said, and as they both looked up to see Edward and Elizabeth approaching the French windows, he winked.


End file.
